


Postage Parenting

by TheLastStraws



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Awesome Pepper Potts, F/M, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Kid Peter Parker, Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastStraws/pseuds/TheLastStraws
Summary: In the silence of his lab, Tony slid the letter out from the envelope, aggravating the permanent creases to unfold it. He read it again. Well, he skipped down to the one sentence, looped in bubbly cursive handwriting, that sent him into a panicked, aggravated, and depressed tailspin these past few days. Just one sentence.“I’m pregnant.”(Tony discovers he's father to a precious, eleven-year-old Peter Parker a few months after the Battle of New York. A retelling/AU of Iron Man 3 and beyond.)





	1. Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is my first fanfic in, like, ten years. It's been so long that I don't even remember my old username! I was just fiddling around with fiction prompts and one was about fanfiction, so I undoubtedly picked Marvel, and I've been on such an Irondad and Spiderson kick that I just had to write one myself. That's how this was born! Huzzah! And after watching Endgame, I now have this developing monster of a fanfic planned in order to cope :D
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! Constructive criticism is the bees knees, so I'd love to hear what you think!

The paper was crinkled. It was dirty and stained and had so many random postal markings on it, he couldn’t believe anyone had even been able to tell his name was on the front anymore. But there it was, slightly off-center.

_Anthony Stark_

In the silence of his lab, he slid the letter out from the envelope for the fourth time that day, probably the hundredth over the past week, aggravating the permanent creases to unfold it. He read it again. Well, he skipped down to the one sentence, looped in bubbly cursive handwriting, that sent him into a panicked, aggravated, and depressed tailspin these past few days. Just one sentence.

_“I’m pregnant.”_

Reading it again didn’t give him that chilling, nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach anymore, and he’d made it past the point of denial—although not remembering her as she rightly assumed in the beginning of her letter didn’t help with that portion of his reaction. He traced the signature at the bottom in some strange hope of transferring the memories through ink osmosis. He repeated the name like the chorus of a song stuck in his head. He stared and thought and brooded. Nothing more than the bare minimum.

She wrote it may be cruel to say he wouldn't remember, but no, it wasn’t cruel, just reminiscent of his _reputation_ , a reputation he thought hadn’t come around to bite him in the ass unlike some of his other decisions.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Not apparently. He _knew_ he was wrong. After he read through the letter the thousandth time (and after a hefty amount of time reeling in denial), he locked himself in his lab to find out...well, just to _find out._ And he found out quite a bit.

The letter said she wasn’t keeping the child ( _“a baby boy,”_ she wrote), but she wanted to contact him so he had the opportunity to do what she couldn’t: raise their son. She was seven months pregnant, so she was giving him two months to decide. If he wanted the baby, great. If he didn’t, she already had a family to take him. They were the Parkers.

He actually managed to track her down from the old phone number she’d left on the bottom of the letter. Her name was Karen. She went home to England after graduate school and married, so she went by Karen Phan now. He apparently knew her as Nightingale.

Not that he even knew her maiden name—or her first name for that matter. Even when he saw a picture of her auburn hair and blue eyes or when he spoke to her through her new number—he still didn’t remember. As he talked to her, he almost convinced himself she’d been lying. But then she laughed. It didn’t instill any warmth in his chest like hearing Pepper’s or giddiness from hearing Rhodey’s (usually because he was already laughing too). Instead, it was like hearing a vague reference from a movie, something he knew he’d heard before but couldn’t place. She had a nice laugh, actually.

That moment of recognition paired with her admission to taking a paternity test for him crushed any doubt he may have had, especially when he found that paternity test hidden away in Stane’s old files—just one paper copy tucked away in a damn box he’d meant to sort through after his office was cleared. The names were blacked and the paper was faded, but there it was: a paternity test for Tony Stark and... _his son._ He tried to stem the slightly nauseous feeling burning in his gut at her admission that she’d talked to Obie— _Stane_ —about the baby.

Karen told him Mary and Richard Parker adopted the child. Sorry, she didn’t know his son’s name.

So he did some more digging—he frowned at just how much digging—and was surprised to find Mary and Richard’s death certificates first. His heart clenched, and he had JARVIS run through a search for the family.  

He found his son.

Now, he was sitting with the letter in one hand and tracing the holographic name of one Peter Benjamin Parker with the other. His son’s name was Peter. He let out a shaky breath. God, he _had_ a son. He had a son he’d abandoned eleven years ago—before that if he counted the pregnancy.

He had a son who’d lost his biological parents before even knowing them, lost his actual parents when he was six, and was now living with his aunt and uncle in Queens, in New York, just down the damn street from the tower.

Only a couple of weeks ago, he could've been at their apartment in a few minutes with the suit, a little longer in a car, and even longer than that if Happy was driving. Even here in California, the suit would still get him there in no time. This wasn’t the first time he’d thought to rush over in the past...however long...but every time he stayed stuck to the chair.

What was he supposed to do? Was he _supposed_ to drive right down there and knock on the door? Was he supposed to call? Was he supposed to do nothing? Was he supposed to change his will then surprise the kid when he kicked it?

At first, he wanted nothing to do with this letter. He half expected it to be some weird hallucination from the many sleepless nights he’d had lately, but every time he walked by the envelope he’d tossed on one of the tables, looking so out of place in a digital and metallic room, he was reminded it was _very_ real. And something he very much didn’t want to deal with.

So he didn’t. He let it sit there; he let it sit there when Pepper came home (a thought that still made him want to skip like a kid even after moving in a month ago); he let it sit there at dinner; he let it sit there when he stumbled down the stairs in the middle of the night; and he let it sit there while he tinkered to the early hours of the morning. Until he couldn’t let it sit any more, the dingy paper hovering in his peripherals and in his head no matter where he was, so he opened it again, again, and again. And now here he was, staring at his son’s name, just sitting like the paper—doing nothing.

He'd honestly never been so unsure of anything in his life. Even when his parents died, even when he was stuck in a godforsaken cave, even when he was directing a fucking nuke into space, he knew what to do. Take over the company, escape from the terrorists, destroy the aliens. Now? Who the hell knew?

Peter's name was blurring in front of him, and he didn't know whether he was relieved or terrified when he heard the whoosh of his lab door opening, knowing it could only be one person. She’d already changed into comfier clothes, switching out her usual pencil skirts with yoga pants, and was carding a hand through her long, red hair.

“Whatever you’re working on can wait,” Pepper announced. “I’m forcing you upstairs to eat.” She leaned over from the back of his chair to kiss his cheek, then she must’ve seen the random kid’s profile up in front of him because she paused. “What’s this?”

He wordlessly handed her the letter in his hand. She frowned, but she unfolded the paper and started to read anyway. She didn’t make any outward sounds of shock or dread or...whatever it was he was feeling right now, but she did slowly ease herself into an empty chair a few feet from him. He watched her brow furrow and the way she tightened her grip on the page. When she finally looked up, she didn’t look at Tony. Instead, she stared at the name hovering in front of him.

“That’s him?” she asked, voice just above a whisper. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He reached up to touch the name again. “His name’s Peter.”

She folded the letter back up again and carefully set it on the table beside her. A few scraps of metal and tools surrounded the small rectangle, a creme-colored stain against a backdrop of shine and silver.

“Okay,” Pepper said, nodding slightly to herself. “Okay, we can figure this out.”

Suddenly, she turned the chair toward him, folding her hands in her lap, looking like a nervous therapist sans clipboard. “What are thinking right now? How're you feeling?”

He almost laughed. How _was_ he feeling? “Like one of those dads who leave for cigarettes and never come back,” he answered. “Except I was never there to leave in the first place, so...worse than that. There’s probably a spectrum of bad dads I’m settled in right now.” He was purposely ignoring the shadow of one particular _bad dad_ since he’d seen there was another Stark in the world. He had to.

“Fair,” she breathed. “This is...a lot to take in. I mean, it's not completely _surprising_ , but still…”

She shook her head and grabbed the Starkpad he had forgotten was on the table. He suppressed a wry smile; now she looked a little more like a therapist. Although, he knew it was going to be used to _list_. He somehow was always surprised by how often she used lists to keep organized and calm, but he’d be reminded when he came upstairs with her hair out of the neat bun and chewing on the end of a pen, a notebook stretched out over the coffee table.

“No, not surprising,” he agreed. “I just never thought I’d find out after _eleven years_. I mean, what the hell is the protocol for a long-lost dad?”

“That’s what we have to figure out,” she said, and he was infinitely grateful, so ridiculously grateful, at _we_. “Honestly, I was always somewhat prepared, figuring someone would approach you about a baby for money or marriage, but...never an eleven-year-old boy who probably has no idea who his birth parents are. I never planned for that.”

“No kidding.”

“We need to come up with a few options. You need to figure out what _you_ want to do, and we need to think of what choices would be best for Peter, too.”

He just nodded, and the determined glint in her eyes softened.

“ _Do_ you know what you want to do?” she asked, and he kind of wished she'd already come up with one of her lists so he could pick through like a twisted multiple-choice test. He did know what he wanted, but he didn’t know if that was the correct answer.

He swallowed. “I want to meet him. I want to get to know my son.” He released a weak laugh, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe I even _have_ a son. Still,” he said, “that’s what I want. No idea what I’m supposed to do after, though.”

“That’s okay.” She smiled. “Meeting him is a good place to start.”

And after following through with her threat to get him to eat, she utilized all those skills he knew would make her a great CEO, and they went to work, starting with _how_ he’d meet him. First, he dug up a little more info about his family. Peter was now living with May and Ben Parker, an ER nurse and an electrician. They were still in Queens, and Peter was in his first year at middle school.

He pretty much had only two major options: tell the family, then meet Peter; or meet Peter, then tell the family. Despite Pepper pursing her lips, he decided on the second option. Mainly because...he didn’t want his aunt and uncle to turn him away. After seeing a picture of Peter—he and Pepper paused in their planmaking to smile at the curly-haired kid with glasses and an ecstatic grin—he couldn’t imagine _not_ seeing him. He had no idea what he would say when he finally _did_ , but one step at a time.

They ended up finding out Peter’s school was going to The New York Hall of Science, and he grinned, remembering how Stark Industries, courtesy of the lovely Pepper Potts, had a temporary robotics exhibit. He wouldn’t admit he was already looking forward to seeing if Peter would be interested in the trip (ie science, ie taking after his old man), but he couldn’t stop the image of a bright boy skipping around the lab—an equally exciting and terrifying thought.

“Do you think you’ll be ready?” Pepper asked, taking a drink of her tea after they were back upstairs. The event was in one week, so while he and Pep had figured out a couple different scenarios in which to introduce himself, he still had to prepare himself to _meet his son_.

“Not a chance,” he confessed, but tried making the statement casual by shrugging his shoulders. “But I’m pretty good at winging it.”

He merely received an unamused glower. “Yes, I’m well aware of how you like to go off script. I can’t tell you how many headaches I’ve had from you ‘winging it’ over the years.” She tipped her mug back for her last sip then set the dish down on the coffee table.

Her colorful and curvy mug, something she’d bought at an art fair with her mother before she passed away, looked almost jarring against the sleek, modern design of his home—but it also looked so _right._ Sometimes it wasn’t enough, but ever since feeling particularly...not great...since New York, he purposely left one of her dishes out, her clothes on the bed, a hair clip in the lab—something to remind him that (as cheesy as it sounded and just thinking it made him cringe) he wasn’t alone. And she was safe, here, and with him; that gave him comfort most days.

“Well, I’m working from home until one tomorrow,” she said, hauling herself up off the couch, “so we can hash out the rest in the morning.” He noticed she hesitated a moment before extending a gentle hand to him. “Let’s go to bed.”

Placing his palm into hers, he didn’t really realize how _exhausted_ he was until he was already half-asleep on the pillow, a welcome change to the usual lately. Pepper snuggled up to his chest, her finger tracing an indiscernible pattern into and around his arc reactor through his t-shirt.

The movement was soothing, and he felt his eyes slowly, heavily shut, but before he fell asleep completely, he still heard Pepper whisper, “Sleep. Please.”


	2. Mr. Iron Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! Thanks so much for the comments and kudos, and I hope you all enjoy this one :)

 

Consciousness was sticky, like his waking brain was clawing out of a tar pit. Half asleep and half awake, a pressure on his chest, and he could almost hear the shouting voices around him, smell the dusty cave, the way he couldn’t do anything while they poked and gutted and cut. His breath hitched, and he opened his eyes, heart thumping around his arc reactor. The stickiness was still behind his eyes and in his limbs, making him feel so goddamn tired, but the antsy fluttering in his chest had him wanting to throw the covers off and get up.

There was a shift of fabric, and he felt Pepper's fingers skate from the top of his chest to curl at his side.

He huffed out a shaky breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. So that was it.

Tilting his head to the side, he grimaced at the time. 3:15 a.m.

He tried closing his eyes, relaxing into Pepper's warmth, but... _fuck._ His fingers twitched, his toes tapped, he adjusted his hips, and he fluffed up the pillow. It wasn't until one last frustrated turn, when Pepper mumbled and almost moved to wake up, that he decided 4:00 was as good as any time to get up.

So down to the lab he went, JARVIS dimly lighting his path even though he knew the way, but after a night of too much silence and too much dark...well, he figured having some light would be better.

He barely noticed how he was already sitting at his workstation with coffee in hand, but those were the sludging midnight hours. Blink and he was awake, blink and he was getting coffee, blink and he was welding. Blink and he was staring at a picture of Peter.

It was one JARVIS pulled from May Parker’s Facebook, the most recent one, in fact. She posted it a month ago, and Tony smiled at the toothy grin, sans one chomper. His last baby tooth, apparently, according to the description.

The tooth was probably grown in by now. That seemed like a good chunk of time for a tooth to come in, but he wasn’t really sure. He’d have to keep in mind Peter might look a little different from the picture if he was going to pick him out of a crowd during that field trip. Maybe the tooth was coming in crooked or his hair was longer.

He’d definitely be able to pick out those eyes, though. Peter had his eyes, the same deep, chocolate brown, but that wasn’t why they were so familiar. No, they were Maria Stark’s eyes too.

He touched a light finger to the screen, to the crest of his right eye.

“Hey, JARVIS,” he said, “mind finding a couple more pictures of Peter?”

“Of course, sir.” Only a few seconds went by before he said, “I’ve also found a video. Would you like to view that as well?”

He perked up at that. “Uh, _yes_. I most certainly want to view a video of Peter.”

He tapped his finger on the couch cushion as he watched the files transfer to his StarkPad. With just pictures, his son seemed very distant to him. Factually, excitedly, he knew he had a son, but he only knew what he was like from these pictures. The kid seemed happy, certainly. Every picture he’d seen he was beaming, but they were pictures; of course he’d be smiling. They didn’t tell him if he was kind or awkward or funny. Hell, Peter could be a brat. He didn’t know.

The video could help, though.

He hit play, and he immediately grinned. It was a science fair. The video was short, not even a minute long, and he was a little disappointed the background was too noisy to really hear Peter, but there he was, standing in front of his project with a first-place ribbon tacked onto the board. He was younger here, sometime in elementary, and his face flushed in embarrassment when his uncle (Tony was glad he looked up his and May’s picture) lifted the boy’s left arm in victory, and his aunt and uncle yelled, “Congrats, Peter!” May sounded like she was shooting the video.

Peter smiled shyly at the camera and waved. He looked so tiny, a little string bean, and Tony was reminded of how scrawny he was when he was a little kid. His chest warmed.

Ben chuckled before ruffling the kid’s hair, then Peter did the most adorable thing in the world: he giggled. He giggled and looked through his unruly hair and his uncle’s fingers to beam up at the man.

“Holy shit, that was cute,” he said. “JARVIS, that was the cutest thing ever, right? I’m not being a creep by saying that?”

“I have no protocol to judge creepiness, sir, but children’s laughter is universally considered cute, so yes, I would say Master Parker is ‘ _cute_.’”

“Good, I’ll take it,” he said with a yawn. “By the way, love the use of air quotes there, buddy. That pause before ‘cute?’ Nailed it. Just don’t overdo it.”

“Of course, sir. Wouldn’t want to _‘overdo it._ ’”

He chuckled. “Cheeky. Now, I’m going to watch this about twenty more times, so shut it.”

The second time he watched it, he paid attention to the same pieces as last, just waiting for that little giggle that made his chest tight. The third time, he looked at the board and was impressed at the subject. Kids normally went with volcanoes and junk, right? He honestly had no idea what the “normal” projects were supposed to be at that age, but he felt like the water’s evaporation rate for different types of bubble solutions was pretty advanced for an elementary schooler, right?

He didn’t deserve to feel the swell of pride, but he smiled anyway—and watched the video again. And again. “Congrats, Peter!” _Giggle_ . “Congrats, Peter!” _Giggle._

The only thing he was focusing on was that giggle, that _hee-he-he_ where the first squeal of laughter was longer than the rest.

“Congrats, Peter!” _Hee-he-he_

And it wasn’t until his StarkPad was falling out of his hands to his lap that he realized why that noise was all he could focus on. His eyes were closed, and JARVIS was playing the video on repeat for him. Probably wanted to make sure he watched it twenty times like he said. Maybe he already did.

_Giggle. Hee-he-he._

He fell asleep.

 

***

 

His scotch glass was empty, save for backwash-riddled droplets collected to one side for a watered-down last sip. He tilted the glass, and the liquid slid around the edge to settle on the other side. He tilted it again.

Two nights until he was on a plane to New York. Two nights until he’d saunter into the Hall of Science and pretend to gauge the public’s interest about the Stark exhibit by chatting with kids all day.

He ran a hand down his face. No, not pretend. He and Pepper actually did have a pretty good plan to start an educational program for kids—a camp, of sorts. Pepper had been thinking about it for some time, but it wasn’t until now that they were taking steps to get it running. Futurist and all that.

While the excuse for going to New York was turning real, the _actual_ reason loomed.

Two nights until he was going to meet his son.

He tipped the glass up to his lips and waited until the last bit of alcohol slithered from the bottom of the glass onto his tongue where it dropped like oil on a hot pan, sizzling down the back of his throat and plunking into his stomach.

His hand came away shaking, and the glass clattered onto the table where he set it. He gulped in a breath, released it, breathed in, breathed out. In. Out. In. Out.

The video he’d watched again echoed in his head.

“Congrats, Peter!” _Giggle._

While that first night was the only one that video put him to sleep, he usually found soothing comfort at hearing his child's laugh. Waking up from looming enemies, from the silence and fear, from falling down, down, down—

Usually the video helped his heart calm, and the warmth he'd always feel from his arc reactor would settle into his bones.

Until it didn’t. Until it _really_ didn’t. Until it made the monsters and aliens and tiny tiny cans so much worse, and he retreated into his lab. The urge to be ready, to be prepared, to protect was overwhelming some days after he heard that little laugh. He had to make everything _better._

Every scenario, every nightmare avoided. No nukes held in his grasp, no lurking army, no darkening HUD, no cold or falling or—

In. Shake. Out. Shake, gasp. In. Out.

He tinkered.

He programmed, he designed, he tightened, he sparked, he jimmied, he screwed, he welded.

In, out. In, out. In, out.

He tinkered.

He took the last sip of his nth glass of amber as JARVIS said, "Sir. Colonel Rhodes is on the line. Shall I put him through?"

"Huh?" He scrunched his brow. What time was it? Tony's eyes widened when he saw 10:00 a.m.

He shook his head and cleared his throat, pushing the glass away from him. "Uh, yeah, sure. Put him through."

The line clicked on. "Hey, Tones. I'll be in New York a day after your meet-and-greet, so I expect to hear everything about Peter."

He swallowed, and he looked over to his empty glass. "Yeah, about that, honeybear…"

"About _what_ , Tony?" He could practically hear him frowning. "Don't tell me you're thinking of not going."

"Yeah, well…" He paused. "Maybe, maybe I shouldn't meet him. I mean, it would be better for everyone, right? I don't want to—"

"Nope. Cutting you off right there. If you really thought that, we wouldn’t be talking about it,” he replied. “You would’ve already made up your mind to back out and this discussion would be five years down the line when we all find out you’ve been watching Peter with a drone from your lab or something.” If he wasn’t a sharp breath away from hyperventilating, he would’ve chuckled because that was definitely a thought he had when he first got the letter.

“Tones,” he continued, “it’s _okay_ for you to be a part of his life. I know you need to hear that, so it’s _okay._ You have _a kid_ , and, shit, I can’t even imagine how terrifying that is, but you know what else it is? Amazing. There’s a little you out there, and you get to meet him and be in his life and be a dad. And you’ll be a pretty good one.” He paused, and Tony was startled to hear a short huff of laughter escape his friend.

“Besides,” Rhodey continued, “I’ve been half-hoping there’d be a baby Stark running around. You know how badly I want to be Uncle Rhodey? If you’re meeting him for anybody, let it be me.”

His own laugh sounded slightly hysterical to his ears, so he could only imagine how it sounded to Rhodey. Probably not great. “Uncle Rhodey sounds pretty good, man.”

“Damn right it does.”

He heard him shift on the other end of the line but couldn’t tell what he was doing. Tony just sat back in his seat and closed his eyes.

“Hey, Rhodey,” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

His lips quirked up. “You're going to spoil my kid rotten, aren't you?"

He chuckled. "Hey, that's what uncles do. First gift he's getting is Air Force merch. I can even get a matching pair for you too because that's the only way I know you'll represent.”

His eyes still shut, Rhodey's voice enveloped him, and he had the strange urge to cry. Fuck, this no sleeping thing was messing with him, so he just let out a chuckle, and silence overtook them again.

Rhodey's breaths weren't obvious, but the few he could catch over the phone, he tried syncing up. While he usually failed, it was certainly occupying his brain, so he continued until Rhodey said, soft, maybe knowing Tony was in a haze of jittery darkness, trying to relax but finding it overtly difficult, "Everything's gonna be fine, man."

His eyes burned behind his eyelids, and he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. When he felt like he was about to tear the skin off, he released and sunk further into his chair. The glow pushing through his eyelids was faded. JARVIS had turned the lights down.

His lips twitched up. "Thanks, buddy."

"Anytime, man."

 

***

 

Peter couldn't believe it. He was  _here_. He at the  _Stark exhibit_ , there were robots everywhere, and he was finally going to see DUM-E's blueprints. As soon as he saw the commercial for the exhibit one day when May was watching the Food Network channel, he just knew he had to come. And when he heard his class was going, he was just counting down the days.

And now here he was! The whole area was jammed full of computers, machinery, whirring, beeping, and people. There were activities everywhere; one corner held AI, the next coding, another nook held an area about mobility, and another was for bionics. And those were just the ones he could see right in front of him! He slid through some of the crowd, poking his head this way and that—there!

Practically skipping, he landed right in front of a display case which held DUM-E's blueprints, and Peter was surprised they weren't, well,  _blue_. DUM-E's design was just on ordinary notebook paper. Over to the right they were copied onto more official-looking paper, but the original was just a doodle. Peter grinned. It didn't look much different to his own notebook. There were whirlwind scribbles in the corner, like Mr. Stark had been trying to get his pen to work, and one of DUM-E's wheels was draw lopsided. 

This was better than he expected, and Peter had been looking forward to this forever. He had a copy of the original MIT article about Mr. Stark winning an award because of DUM-E, and ever since the first day he saw it, he'd wanted to build something like it. May teased him about his "Stark shrine," as she called it, but it was just a binder of articles about Mr. Stark's research and inventions. 

He'd add the brochure they handed to him today to the next page when he got home.

Peter was so engrossed in the blueprint, he barely noticed the mechanical claw that waved at him from his right. Peter gasped. DUM-E!

He narrowed his eyes. Wait. No, that wasn't DUM-E. He looked different from his pictures, and reading the information board, he discovered why. It was a comparison of materials from when Mr. Stark first invented the robot to what kind of metals, wiring, and joints he'd use now. What was in front of Peter, waving to those passing by, was one with repeat movements—wave, duck down to touch the floor, turn, move the cup in front of him, and repeat. 

He looked around for Ben so he could show him, but he remembered that his uncle, who agreed to be a chaperone today, was with the rest of his group. Peter was so excited about this exhibit, after the first hour at the museum, Ben let him escape so he could spend the rest of the day here. The other kids would show up later, so Peter was going to enjoy his time really exploring each section.

DUM-E-2 circled around to his waving motion, and Peter smiled, waving back.

“Pretty cool, huh?” a voice commented from his right, and when he turned, he nearly collapsed right there from shock and excitement and _oh my God_!

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he was finally able to manage, “Y-You’re…!”

“Tony,” _Tony Stark_ said as he outstretched his hand to shake. He was dressed unlike his press conferences and interviews. Usually, he had on fancy suits for that, but this time he was in jeans with a blue undershirt and navy jacket over top. He had on red-tinted sunglasses too.

He numbly brought his own hand up to introduce himself, eyes still wide and brain still trying to catch up to the fact that _Tony flippin’ Stark_ was standing right in front of him, standing right in front of _Peter_ , and— _oh my gosh, oh my gosh_ —he was shaking hands with him. He was shaking hands with his hero!

“I’m P-Peter.”

The man’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, and he said, “Very nice to meet you, Peter.” He nodded over to the display. “Interested?”

Peter ducked his head down, and he felt his face heat up. “Y-Yeah. I really like robotics.” When Mr. Stark’s friendly expression didn’t change, he perked up. “This DUM-E looks a lot different from the videos I’ve seen of the original, but the movement’s super fluid.”

“Good eye. My DUM-E's a clunky mess, and as for the fluidity? A lot of it has to do with this guy.” He gestured for Peter to follow him to the computer screen to their right. “Want me to show you his commands?”

Peter grinned. “Really? You’d really show me? I mean, I know you’re probably super busy and you have better things to do, so I get it if you can’t, but if you—”

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” he interrupted Peter’s nervous ramble, but he looked more amused than anything, so Peter’s face didn’t get _that_ red, hopefully. “Come here. Class is in session.”

And with that, Peter jumped over, and Mr. Stark showed him _so much!_ They didn't just stop at the DUM-E display. Mr. Stark took him to each one and explained everything in detail (Ned was going to be so jealous!). He was funny and didn’t talk to him like he wouldn’t understand. Sometimes his teachers did that if he asked a question the other kids wouldn’t. It was annoying, but now he just went to certain teachers only or looked it up himself if he wanted to know more about a subject.

He thought he might be irritating Mr. Stark with all of his questions, but he actually looked pretty happy that he was asking. Sometimes, he actually got this expression on his face Peter couldn’t really name, but it reminded him of May, actually. It was the way their eyes would soften, eyebrows tilted and face relaxed. It wouldn’t last very long or he would quickly turn his head away from Peter, but he noticed it a couple of times.

He was having fun, and he didn’t really realize how long he was trailing behind Mr. Stark until he heard Ben call him from behind.

“There you are, Peter,” he said but paused when he got closer—close enough to see that Peter was behind a display case with a small screwdriver in his hand. He whipped it behind his back.

“Uh, hi, Uncle Ben!”

He blinked. “Peter,” he said, “why are you breaking into the exhibit?”

“That’ll be my fault,” Mr. Stark piped in from his crouched down position behind him. He’d been watching to make sure Peter was attaching the back panel properly onto what Peter dubbed “GRIP-E” (Mr. Stark let him name the robot). GRIP-E suctioned onto objects to move them.

“O-Oh,” Ben stuttered, his eyes wide. “Mr. Stark. I-I didn’t see you there.”

“I was just showing Peter a couple tricks of the trade. You’ve got yourself a budding scientist.”

Peter couldn’t contain the grin that overtook his face, and his heart felt like it was going to burst. Mr. Stark said he was a budding scientist!

Ben seemed to shake out of his shock and smiled down at Peter. “Yes, we’re very proud of him.”

“Good. He’s a bright kid.” Mr. Stark turned and smiled to Peter now standing beside his uncle. “I... had a really fun time with you today, kid." He cleared his throat and sniffed. "Not many people can keep me entertained for so long. Ms. Potts might be looking to hire you to babysit me when she's away."

Peter giggled. "You don't need a babysitter."

"Tell that to my poor, messy lab." Peter saw him look over Ben's shoulder where his class was gathered. They had to get on the bus soon, and Peter frowned. He wanted to stay longer.

Mr. Stark's voice got a little quieter when he said, "Well, looks like I have to get back to work and you have to get back to school." He hesitated, looking back and forth between Peter and the group before he stuck out his hand to shake again. "Very nice to meet you, Mr. Parker."

He grinned. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Iron Stark—I mean, Mr. Man—MR. STARK!" His voice squeaked at the end.

He felt his face flush. Oh my _God_ , he was so _embarrassing!_ He quickly took his hand back and backed away, hiding his face.

"Thank you very much for today, Miste—I had a lot of fun!"

Then he turned tail to go bury his head in some dirt, leaving Ben to hopefully give Mr. Stark a better sendoff than he did.

Man, he couldn't believe he just said _Mr. Iron Stark!_ When he was finally old enough to work for Stark Industries, Mr. Stark would probably throw his application out right there.

"Oh, that's the kid who called me Iron Stark," he would say, then Peter's application would go straight into the trash can. And he'd laugh. And Peter would die of shame.

He scuffed his shoe on the floor. And it was going so well before Peter's mouth didn't work.

In the midst of his sulking, Ben appeared, and Peter immediately knocked his head into his arm.

His uncle laughed. "Oh, it wasn't that bad, Mr. Man," he said.

Peter groaned and covered his face with his hands.

"In fact," Ben continued, "he was very impressed with you."

He blinked up him through the cracks of his fingers. "Really?"

"Really. He thought you were a great kid. Which you are." He poked him on the nose, and Peter scrunched up his face. Then he smiled shyly.

"He liked me," he whispered, then turned back to where Mr. Stark was. He was surprised to still see him there, but he wasn't shocked to see another group of kids around him. He was Iron Man, so no wonder. Peter just wondered why he was here in the first place, but he didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave, talking to each kid and parent individually.

Peter was disappointed he had to go back with his class—he could've stayed all day—but when Mr. Stark looked over at him and waved, a friendly smile on his face, he knew he'd gotten to experience what other kids only dreamed of, what he'd only just dreamed of earlier in the day. He got to hang out with  _Iron Man_ for  _hours._

He waved back.

 

***

 

Tony almost felt like conking out on the way home. Dozens of kids and parents sure were exhausting. He had a new respect for teachers, definitely.

Not that he could _actually_ sleep. As evidenced by the goofy smile he no longer was trying to hide, he was way too giddy to fall asleep. Besides, he had one more thing he wanted to do before pulling into home.

He sent a grateful look to the driver (Happy was still in California) for already putting up the privacy screen and dialed Pepper, her smiling face popping up almost immediately in front of him.

“Tony!” she greeted. “Did you meet him? How’d it go? What’s he like?”

He skipped over a typical snarky reply and jumped right into gushing. He told her all about the almost three hours he was able to hang out with Peter. God, the kid was so clever and polite, and even though Tony could tell he'd been nervous because he was a tad starstruck, he was also pretty funny. Some of that was due to the kid’s endearing awkwardness—which he’d never thought he’d say about anyone other than Bruce—but he was pretty quick witted, especially for his age.

He thoroughly enjoyed the time he had with his son, and this little excursion made him long for more time—made him long to go _back_ in time, but that wasn’t really a feasible option. He did a decent job of giving the kid, and himself, a pretty good day, so he thought it was mission accomplished.

He admittedly had to stop himself from being too familiar or mentioning something he shouldn’t know. Just because Peter was his son didn’t mean the kid knew that or realized Tony had stalked the shit out of his family before the field trip. No, to him, Tony was Iron Man, a stranger outside of TV.

He did succumb to one moment, though. He’d avoided pats on the shoulder, ruffling his hair, or any other affectionate gestures; he didn’t want the kid running for the hills. He probably ended up looking awkward a few times because he did all of those with other random kids, so there may have been some freezing and flailing mid-pat, but he thought he did pretty well with not being weird around his kid who didn’t know he was his kid.

He didn’t mind the slip-up, though, something small yet lasting.

During one of their sneaky stints around the backs of the displays, they were taking apart one of the robots, and without really thinking about it, Tony adjusted Peter’s grip on the screwdriver, his hand half the size of Tony’s own. “See? Loosey-goosey in your one hand so you can spin it.”

“Loosey-goosey,” Peter mumbled under his breath with such seriousness that Tony had to contain his laughter.

And that was it. Just that tiny shift of fingers, but when it happened, the museum drifted away and he was in their family’s kitchen. He was around nine, if he remembered. He was back from boarding school that summer, and he was clumsily whisking egg whites, Jarvis standing at his shoulder. The butler’s larger hand adjusted his grip, the wire handle fitting between his thumb and forefinger, and tilted the bowl for him.

“Like this?” he had asked, and Jarvis smiled.

“Just like that.”

He didn’t tell Pepper about Jarvis, but he told her practically everything else, maybe twice. At the loosey-goosey robot (his, not Peter’s), she narrowed her eyes at him for forgetting to put it back together before he left (oops), but she was excited for him and wanted to meet Peter.

“Well,” he said, “you can meet his aunt and uncle in two nights.”

She sent him an exasperated look over the camera. “ _Can_ I?”

“ _We_ , honey. Always a team.” He winked. “I invited us over to their house for dinner to discuss the science camp thing.”

She sighed but sent him an amused smile. “Sometimes I forget how stupidly charismatic you can be. Now, if only you’d use that in board meetings.”

He let out an exaggerated shiver. “I’d never waste my talents there. Besides, you’re much better at it than I am.”

“Flatterer.”

“Sole reason we’re dating.”

She smirked. “I can think of a few more.” Before her sultry eyes could put him in cardiac arrest, she switched the subject. “But you’re okay?”

At her expectant, concerned gaze, he cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, just fine.”

“Tony.”

He sighed. “Just hoping...that’s not the last time I get to talk to him. He won’t be there when we go to the Parker's. Sleeping over at his friend’s house.”

“How did Ben Parker seem? You said he was nice, so I don’t imagine he would stop you from seeing Peter.”

“I’ve been wrong about people before.”

“But you might not be wrong about this. Besides,” she said, her lips sliding into a comforting smile, “you’ve got me on your team. If I can convince Mr. Kafka to sign a contract with us, I can tackle anyone.”

His expression was fond. “That you can.”

“Of course," she said. “But we’ll figure it out, Tony, don’t worry. Now, I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you tonight and let you know when I’m able to fly into New York. I love you.”

“Love you too, Pep. Bye.”

The screen darkened, and he couldn’t stop his mind from thinking back to his son’s smiling face. Peter's shy smile was crooked, one side turning up more than the other, before it would pull up all the way to show that fully grown in tooth when he was excited.

Tony even heard him giggle. _Hee-he-he._

He smiled.


	3. Another Little Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In reply to a reviewer last chapter, I saw a post a couple of years ago saying Ben should be played as David Duchovny, and I kind of can't unsee that now haha. But it would be kind of cool to see Tobey Maguire as a nod to the Raimi films even though he has such a baby face he'd probably look more like Peter's brother than uncle XD
> 
> So here's the next one! Hope you enjoy, and thanks to all the lovely reviews! Also, Tony drops a couple of f-bombs.

“I’ve got this,” Tony said, adjusting his tie. “Totally got this.”

Pepper brushed his hand away. “You adjust it anymore, you’ll strangle yourself. I would’ve come out here for nothing.”

He let out a breath. “Not for nothing. You went to that bakery you like.”

“Those cookies are delicious. You’re lucky I love lemon.”

“Notice how I didn’t even _mention_ those strawberry tarts they have.” He gasped dramatically. “He can _learn_.”

She smoothed the lines of his suit and couldn’t stop the upturn of her lips. “Oh, I’m so proud. The man I love and have known for over ten years remembers I’m allergic to strawberries.”

“Never said I learned quickly.”

She laughed and pecked him on the lips. “Alright, let’s grab the folder and head down to the car. You’re antsy, so we’ll take the scenic route to the Parker’s before you run a hole through the floor with your pacing.”

He huffed. “I don’t pace.”

She merely rolled her eyes and grabbed the manilla folder containing every document he and Pepper could think of that would prove Peter was Tony’s kid. Those would be the big guns, the finale. Hopefully, they would just need them as a quick reference after his finely tuned explanation and commentary.

He tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves. Yeesh, he felt like he was giving his first speech again. He’d been winging speeches for years, but telling May and Ben Parker that their nephew was his biological son? Yeah, he practiced in the mirror, practiced with Pepper, practiced with JARVIS, and even wrote on a goddamn notecard.

He could do this.

And if he couldn’t? Well, then fuck it. There was still the drone plan.

 

***

 

“Oh, Mr. Stark, Miss Potts! Please, come in, come in!” Ben grinned and ushered them in the door of their apartment. His expression was just as friendly the first time he met him, the wrinkles around his mouth indicative of that being quite common for everyone. “We weren’t expecting you for another half hour.”

“Traffic was surprisingly light,” Pepper lied. In fact, he drove the two of them here an hour early and couldn’t stand waiting in the car any longer, so he dragged her up the stairs, barely giving her enough time to shove the file folder into her large purse. He was clutching the wine bottle Pepper convinced him to bring probably a little too tightly as he slipped off his shoes. Pepper used his shoulder for balance as she toed her flats off. 

As they straightened, May Parker, brown hair maneuvered into a braid that draped over her shoulder, came from around the corner, probably from their bedroom, and smiled. “Hello! Glad you two could come!”

“Bearing a gift, as well.” Tony smiled and presented the bottle with a slight flourish. “It’s a thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”

Ben blinked, looking a little surprised, but he accepted the bottle with thanks.

“We’re happy to have you,” he said, backing up to the kitchen to place the gift on the counter while May directed them to sit at the table. “We were admittedly a little surprised you two wanted to speak with us, but if this helps with more opportunity for kids, we’re more than happy to serve dinner. Besides, it's not everyday we get to host for celebrities.” 

“Glad to hear it's no inconvenience,” Pepper said. She shifted to cross her legs and leaned back against the curved back of the chair. He didn’t realize how stiffly he was sitting until he saw her position, so he pressed his back against the back of his seat, too.

“How about we open that wine?” he heard May ask from the kitchen overtop the beeping of the oven. Whatever they had cooking smelled delicious. He imagined the whole apartment, small but cozy, smelling of tomato sauce and basil. 

“I’m never opposed to the idea,” he joked, but inwardly cringed. _Good start, Tony_ , he thought. _Remind everyone in the room of your drinking._ Luckily, May joined in with a pop of the cork and said, “After a long day at work, neither am I.”

“You’re a nurse, right?” Pepper chimed in. “That must be exhausting.”

“No more exhausting than running a company or being a superhero, I’m sure.”

“I actually think being his PA was more exhausting,” Pepper teased with a light smile and a tilt of her head in his direction.

He huffed. “The gratitude. You’d think after handing over my entire company to her, she’d be a bit nicer.” 

“Oh, you were thankful to give up all of those boring meetings.”

“So you admit they’re boring. I’m saving the date. Ms. Pepper Potts finds those board meetings just as boring as I do. You're actually impressed I've only fallen asleep once.”

She merely rolled her eyes before graciously accepting the wine glass May brought over.

“I don’t think I could sit through people talking about numbers for hours on end,” she said, handing him his as well. She laughed on her way back to the counter. “Like I know what a Fortune 500 meeting is like.”

“Not too far off,” he told her. 

When she returned with her and Ben’s glasses, they all surprisingly settled into comfortable conversation. Normally, that fact wouldn’t be all that shocking, but with how nervous he’d been all day, having a pleasant conversation while simultaneously ignoring the upcoming bombshell seemed too good to be true. He was enjoying their evening.

He liked them. May was fierce with an endearing sense of humor. He did notice her lips thin a few times he talked, but she warmed up to him after a while (thank _God_ ). And Ben was, frankly, just a _good guy_. He was the type of person to help old ladies cross streets and hold the door open for a theater full of people—but he also had a quiet strength to him. He actually reminded Tony of Cap a little.

Even when they stopped to eat—a pretty tasty lasagna—the conversation never really stopped. He even slipped in more than a few questions about Peter. He was a brilliant kid who loved tinkering and chemistry. He loved the Star Wars movies, golden retrievers, and Legos. He once managed to get his hand stuck in a VCR, and he was notorious for falling asleep during movies.

Tony’s heart secretly swelled when the couple showed them pictures of Peter dressed up as Iron Man for Halloween—twice. The first he clearly made himself. The mask, a construction paper cutout with red marker swirled on yellow paper, was tied around his face with a bright red string, and more red and gold paper stuck to his clothes to indicate the lines of his suit. The second, though, was Peter in a large, plastic helmet May and Ben probably bought for him. It looked familiar, but outside of seeing them in stores and on kids who wanted his autograph, he wasn’t sure why it made him pause.

“It seems he’s always been a budding superhero.” Pepper chuckled and picked up another picture in the photo album. Peter was with his parents. He watched a manicured nail trail over one face to the next, and he smiled at the toothy grin overtaking his son’s face. The domino mask over his eyes was crooked, but it was a little hard to tell because he was hanging off his dad like a little monkey, the blanket cape tangling between the family. Mary looked like she was holding back laughter, and Richard was torn between discomfort at his body being used as a jungle gym and amusement over that same fact. 

He could vaguely hear Ben tell a story about Peter using absolutely any piece of fabric as a cape, but his attention was focused on the three faces in the picture. With Mary’s brown eyes and Richard’s face shape, he could imagine no one being the wiser to Peter’s biological parents. 

Not for the first time, he wondered whether he should disrupt this by shoving the Stark name in their faces, tainting Peter Benjamin Parker with his surname and all the shit that came with it. 

It never sounded quite right: Peter Stark. He kept wondering why until Pepper was talking about her grandfather, Morgan, one day—a cute girl name, she said—and he realized...he wouldn’t have called Peter _Peter_. Benjamin may not have been too far off—his mother loved the name Benito, and she said he was close to being named that himself—but this costume-clad little boy wouldn’t be in this picture, here, if he had taken him as a baby. Peter Parker wouldn’t exist. 

Instead, another little boy who would've played on DUM-E, swum in the California oceans, and climbed on _his_ shoulders instead would stand in his place. A boy who would've had an alcoholic, irresponsible father; who would've been followed by cameras; and who would've been left alone for three months while Tony was dying in a cave.

Some nameless shadow of a little boy would've been Tony Stark's son growing up. Not Peter Parker, a sweet kid who wanted to be a superhero.

“Peter was adopted.”

He said it with all the disbelief, depression, anger, love, and acceptance that he’d been marinating in since that letter appeared in his hands, but he desperately wished the ensuing silence was because his brain was fried and he was having a stroke—not because he’d said it out loud to his guardians who thought he was here for kids and science and not _his_ kid who liked science.

Fuck.

As soon as those words tumbled out of his mouth, he immediately regretted them. With that stupid statement, the comfortable atmosphere vaporized instantly. May blinked, then narrowed her eyes while Ben glanced between Pepper and Tony. He felt Pepper stiffen beside him. 

“Yes,” Ben said. “Mary and Rich adopted Peter right at birth pretty much.” He paused, looking like he was biting his cheek before asking, “Why do _you_ know that?”

His heart was hammering in his chest, and if possible, it hammered even louder. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, “there’s a good reason for that, I can assure you.”

If anything, May’s eyes narrowed further. “And what reason is that?”

His heart was unrelenting with each pound. He almost felt like his arc reactor was going to be forced out from each pounding pump of blood through his chest, especially with the couple’s equally unrelenting gazes on him. 

He’d been working this conversation in his head, every possible reaction the two of them could have. Worst-case scenario was always they’d never let him see Peter again. Worst-worst-case scenario was _Peter_ never wanting to see him again. His brain was unfortunately lingering on those two options, and his well-thought-out segways and conversations and arguments all fizzled away in favor of _I don’t know how to tell them_.

He also just wanted to slam his head into the nearest wall for—as usual—not knowing when to _shut his mouth_.

Pepper firmly gripped his knee, bringing his attention to her. She tilted her head slightly and softened her eyes. His lips twitched up for a moment. Moments like this reminded him of how long they’d truly been together because from just those couple of movements, he knew she was offering to tell them. He could also tell she was slightly annoyed he ruined said segways and conversations and arguments she’d helped practice with him too. With a deep breath, he slid his hand underneath hers on his knee and interlocked their fingers. God, he loved this woman. He shook his head, and she squeezed his hand briefly before releasing.

He reached and slid the manilla folder in front of him. The file that was innocently sitting at the end of the table was now bared in front of all four of them, and he grabbed the beaten-up envelope from the top, placing it between May and Ben.

“This is actually the reason we came today. I received this letter last month, and...well...” A frustrated sigh escaped him. He gestured to the folder and said, “Please, read it. Might make explaining this a little easier.”

He concentrated on the rhythmic motion of Pepper’s soft thumb, her hand placed gently on his knee again, as he waited for them to finish. He didn’t want to look at their expressions while reading, so he relied only on the slight crinkling of the paper to guess at when they were done. His eyes found the next picture in the album of Peter grinning at the camera with his stuffed dragon tucked underneath his sweatshirt, the long neck of the creature peeking over his shoulder and the body making the small boy appear to have a hunched back. He was clearly in elementary school, but Tony was having a hard figuring out exactly what age he was. Was he in Afghanistan while this picture was being taken? Was he designing the latest weapon of mass destruction when Peter stuffed a dinosaur toy down his sweatshirt? Or was Tony just tinkering away, oblivious to his son posing for someone else’s camera?

“Is it true?” Ben asked quietly, disturbing the tense silence. Tony flicked his gaze back over to the couple, and he could’ve been imagining it, but he thought they looked a little paler.

“Can’t say for certain about the state of her school’s graduate program,” he paused to deliver a thin smile and continued after swallowing the lump in his throat, “but yes. It’s true. The paternity tests done when he was born are there.” He gestured to the folder. “Take a look if you want.”

May pulled the folder toward her, staring down at the papers with pursed lips. She passed them to Ben, but he didn’t look at them. 

“You didn’t know until now?” she asked.

“Not until that letter showed up in the mail.”

She nodded tensely, and the couple glanced at each other, contemplating the news. Tony admitted they were taking this a lot better than he was expecting—he'd already imagined cartoonish outrage, sad blubbering, and steely dislike—but he didn’t know what to do now. He frowned. He hated being out of his element in an element he was usually quite good at: talking. But now he didn’t know if he was supposed to be saying something right now or waiting for them to speak first.

Pepper beat him to deciding. “I know this is a lot to take in. I know it’s been a lot for _us_ . Everything we thought you might need to make this news... _easier_ is in that folder for you to look at. The woman’s picture is Peter’s birth mother, and we have the paternity test and a copy of the adoption papers Karen signed in there, as well.”

They briefly glanced through, shuffling the papers a little, before May ran a hand through her hair and Ben rested his elbows on the table, looking grave. The nurse took her glasses off to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“Okay,” she said then replaced her glasses and stared at Tony. “So what does all this mean for us? What does this mean for Peter?”

He ignored the churning in his stomach in favor of answering her honestly. “Nothing, if you don’t want it to.” Both Ben and May looked taken aback by that, so he continued, not daring that option to linger in their minds any longer. “I would prefer it to mean I get to see him, though. I know I haven’t been in his life for eleven years, but I’d like to start, if you’ll let me. I don’t plan on taking him to live with me or anything; he’s been raised by you and your family. You _are_ his family. I just…want to get to know my son.” He swallowed and bowed his head. “Please.”

He could feel Pepper lean her arm against his as she settled her hands in her lap. She felt relaxed, so he dared to lift his head.

Ben and May had closed the folder and pushed it aside.

“Of _course_ you can see Peter,” Ben said, and Tony couldn’t stop the way he sagged in relief. “I’m embarrassed to say I thought the worst when you showed us the letter and were going to take Peter with you. But we’d never stop you from seeing Peter. You’re his father.”

“Thank you,” he said gratefully—as grateful as he thought he’d ever sounded.

May shook her head. “No need to thank us. We can’t rightfully say _no_ , can we? Granted, I would’ve had to put my foot down if you came in here expecting to take him from us—”

“May!” Ben chastised, but she merely scrunched her nose at the interruption.

“What? Ripping him from another home would’ve been a terrible first move as a parent.”

Even though he only briefly considered that option, he was glad he didn’t go that route. Her fierce protectiveness was very reminiscent of the woman next to him. Looking between the two, he had a feeling they’d get along very well.

“Parenting lesson number one: noted,” he said as he leaned back in the chair, finally feeling like he could breathe. He felt lightweight, like when he was leisurely flying through the sky as no one but Tony. Although he loved being Iron Man—he didn’t think he could ever _stop_ being Iron Man—those moments of no obligation, no one to save, no weapons to destroy, or no evil masterminds to stop were his favorite. He had nothing to do at this moment but be Tony, happy he could see his son again.

May laughed, getting up to grab their empty glasses and depositing them in the sink. She rifled through the cupboard until she had two scotch glasses in each hand. 

“I think we deserve something a little stronger after all this,” she said as she grabbed a bottle of scotch, tucked away in the small cupboard above the stove.

“Cheers to that,” Pepper agreed, pushing up from her chair to help distribute the drinks, grabbing one for Ben and Tony before returning for her own. When May sat back down with her, they all clinked and took a bracing sip. 

The burn slithered down his throat, and he hummed approvingly at the quality. For as much alcohol as he’d sloshed down his gullet over the years, he could point out the finer stuff. It would be a lot easier now to savor it instead of gulping it too, and he kept a purposeful eye on how quickly Pepper was drinking hers. He didn’t know when that unspoken rule came about—recently, was all he knew—but Pepper was equally as aware of her drinking level when they were out. She set hers on the table, and he mimicked the movement.

“Well,” May started, taking another sip of scotch, “although I’m glad that’s taken care of, we still have to lay that bombshell on someone else.” While that statement mainly seemed to be directed at Ben, she turned to raise an eyebrow at Tony. “I’m assuming that’s why you already met Peter? To make the news easier?”

Not feeling too keen on sharing his pessimism, he merely said, “Something like that.”

“I think it might be a better idea for us to tell him first,” Ben suggested. “Just to prepare him before you see him. And then we can have you see him after.”

He was surprised when May laughed. “He probably won’t even listen to us if you’re there, so it's a good thing we're telling him first. He was _so_ embarrassed about stumbling over your name. I swear, his face was red all night.”

He snorted while Pepper tried to stifle her laughter next to him. “Mr. Man was a new one, I have to admit. And Iron Stark.”

Ben couldn’t hold back his smile either and added, “He hid under his comforters for an hour when we got home.”

“Oh, poor thing,” Pepper cooed, but her underlying amusement belied the sentiment a bit. 

He chuckled and trailed his gaze over to the hallway where he presumed Peter’s bedroom was. Tony had only met the kid once, but he could still imagine him diving under the blankets to groan about his luck. He remembered doing something similar when he at boarding school, actually.  This was before the charming charisma, so tripping up the stairs and into his teacher’s ass kept him in his room the rest of the day. The rest of his embarrassments were made with either youthful defiance or a suave grin, but the “Great Tony Stark” was never above wanting to hide his red face from the world as a kid. He was glad that was probably one of the only things he and Peter could relate to about childhood. He hoped, anyway, but the photos and the family in front of him clearly showed a happy, loved child, so he wasn’t worried. Very glad, in fact.

“So,” he started, already wishing he wasn’t dampening the light mood, “how are we going to do this?”

“Well,” May said, tapping a few of her nails on the table, “I agree with Ben about telling him first. It might be a bit overwhelming for him if it's all of us. But as for how, when, and what we’re going to do after...that may take some thinking.”

Pepper hummed, then she dug into her large handbag and retrieved another folder. She didn’t open it yet, but she laced her fingers together on the table on top of it. 

“I think I may have a few ideas,” she said, and he couldn’t stop his smirk. _A few ideas._ She had every single possible idea in her folder, and she worked on that right beside him in the lab before coming here, even talking to an old friend from college who was now a child psychologist to get advice on how Peter may take the news.

They finally decided to tell him Friday. A lot of what happened after depended on Peter, but they tentatively agreed that once he and Peter became more comfortable with the idea (and the kid didn’t totally hate him), Peter would see him every other weekend.

He just had to mentally prepare himself for Friday first.

 

***

 

So waiting around for Friday was absolute hell. He was so strung up, he could barely get any work done in the lab, and that was the only thing keeping him occupied when he couldn’t sleep. As usual, Pepper held his attention a little bit of his time at night after work, but after she was asleep, he was usually blinking (or gasping) up at the ceiling.

Now, he was blinking at this stupid DVD rewinder Rhodey got him as a gag gift. He couldn’t concentrate on anything actually useful, so he figured he’d try his hand at something stupid. He was hoping to make it less stupid, but this was turning into a mechanic’s solitaire. Shuffle everything up, play, and repeat. 

“Why the hell would anyone even make this?” he grumbled. It was a merry-go-round for discs. It was stupid, it was pointless, and it was sitting in dozens of pieces in front of him—for the third time. He already made it merry-go-round faster, scratch the disc in cool patterns, and turned it into an actual DVD player. 

He twirled a screw around the table. He wondered what Peter would think of Stupid Spinner.

He shook his head with a wry smile. He’d only met the kid once and not for the first time was already thinking of what he’d do or say or think. He wondered what he’d think when they told him about being his son. Would he be surprised, disappointed, sad, angry? Or would be be...happy?

Maybe at first he would be. Those starry eyes and hero-worship were something he was more uncomfortable with than usual knowing that the kid was his son. He wasn't really known for interacting with kids that much; he did his best when lanky limbs and missing teeth appeared in front of him, but he didn't think he was particularly great with children. They came up to him often enough with admittedly cute pictures, letters, and cards, but his interactions with Peter at the museum was probably the longest with any singular child.

And it was _his_ child.

He tried not to think that even though Peter was eleven, Tony had only been in his life for three hours, but that thought inevitably stamped into his brain when he started thinking of how Peter would react to being a Stark.

Thinking, thinking, thinking, that was usually his problem. 

He was also trying to think if he should be moving. This was his most optimistic outlook on the Peter reveal, but if everything went well...he couldn't really stay in Malibu, could he? He couldn't be on the other side of the country from his son. 

He knew he had to talk to Pepper about the possibility, and he was sure she was already figuring out what they could do without him having to say a word, but her life was in California. Sure, his life was here too and he wasn't particularly fond of the idea of months-long winter, but if he was actually going to be a part of Peter's life, he had to be closer. Which left Stark Towers. Or whatever people were calling it. Avengers Tower? 

That could stick. He had places for his colleagues (he wrinkled his nose at that, but didn't know what else to call them) to stay, and Bruce was already playing mad scientist in his labs there. R&D were practically salivating at the mouth when he stopped in for the first time. 

So he could pal around with Bruce and debate whether moving the company headquarters there would be a good move. If he and Pepper were relocating, that would probably be best.

He sighed. Now he just had to figure out how to talk to Pepper about it. And Happy. 

He snorted. Happy sure wouldn't be happy about the move, but Tony knew he'd come with him anyway. When he told Happy about Peter, he lifted one eyebrow up and asked, "You expect me to bodyguard _three_ people now?"

"My dear Forehead of Security, I don't expect you to bodyguard anyone anymore. Unless it's a building with my name on it."

He scoffed. "Like I won't look after your kid."

And the conversation ended shortly after. Tony had to endure a mortifying guessing game of all the women he'd slept with to discover Peter's mother (damn, did Happy have a good memory), but his longtime employee pretty much just shrugged and continued on with his day. 

But if Tony saw him memorizing the map around the Parker's apartment, he wasn't going to mention it.

He honestly wasn't really sure what Pepper would say. She liked New York a lot, but it was a lot to ask of her. He tried not to linger on his shaking hands at the thought of going to New York without her.

He glanced at his cellphone. What was really keeping him up was waiting to hear from the Parkers. They were telling Peter after school, and if it went well, he'd go that night to talk to him. If he needed more time, he'd go Saturday or Sunday.

Only—he groaned—ten more hours. 

What else could he make Stupid Spinner into?

 

***

 

The door to Peter's room was closed, but he could hear May and Ben talking to each other. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but he knew they were talking about him—him and Tony Stark.

His dad.

The Iron Man helmet he had since the Expo stared at him from atop his knees, his legs curled up and toes pushed under his stuffed animals. 

"So you're my dad," he whispered to it.

The bulbous head merely frowned at him. Peter didn't really realize until now that the mask was frowning. He wondered why Mr. Stark designed it that way. 

"You're my dad," he repeated.

May and Ben told him Mr. Stark only just found out he had a kid _(Peter_ , his mind whispered) a couple of months ago. That meant he knew Peter was his son when he met him at the museum.

"Is that why you talked to me?"

He poked the cheek of the mask, tilting it.

"Ben says you're coming over soon. I told them it was okay if you did."

He tilted his head to match the angle of the mask.

"I've always known Dad was my adopted dad, but I didn't know my _real_ dad was you." He bit his lip. "After you saved me, I always imagined you were. It was really dumb, just me and Ned playing, but I wanted my dad to swoop in like you did. After Mom and Dad died, I really hoped I would get to meet you. Not just Iron Man-you, but you-you, like you, my dad. I have Ben and May, but I'm not actually related to them. I wanted someone I was family-family with, you know?"

There was a loose piece of paint near Iron Man's ear he flicked and scratched. 

"I'm—I'm a little nervous to meet you. Not that I haven't met you, but that was before I knew. I'm really excited to have a dad again, but...I'm also kind of scared? You could get tired of me or not like me. You're a cool superhero, after all, and I'm just Peter." He frowned. "Or you could go away like Mom and Dad."

The piece of red paint fell onto his comforter. 

"Do you think you'll let me meet the real DUM-E? Or let me go to Avengers Tower and meet Captain America? We could even just build robots again or go get ice cream or talk. Would...that be okay? My dad used to take me to get ice cream, and Ben helps me make stuff with extra parts he takes from work. Is that...what dads do? I don't really remember my dad, so I don't know. And Ben's my uncle, so he'll probably do different stuff than you."

The mask stared at him.

"I guess I'll...talk to you soon? Okay. I'll, um, talk to you later. Right."

He straightened his legs, and the mask fell off his bed to the rug.

 

***

 

All Tony had to do was knock on the door. His hand hovered, right underneath the number 1962. Peter was waiting behind that door. Peter, after discovering who his father was, who still wanted to talk to him even after that, was waiting behind that door.

Taking in a deep breath, he hit his knuckles against the wood. 

He didn't have to wait long, and May greeted him with a smile.

"Hey, Tony." She moved aside to let him in, and he came in just enough to be out of the way of the door closing. Ben was standing behind the kitchen counter, but he didn't look like Tony's entrance interrupted him from anything. He was just spinning his half-empty glass of water.

"Ben, May, good to see you," he said—then saw Peter slowly coming out from the hallway. He had on a pretty generic hoodie, just a red hooded thing with uneven strings, and he blinked those wide, brown eyes from behind black-framed glasses. His goofy printed socks shuffled into the carpet.

"Hey, kid," he said to his son. Tony twiddled his fingers inside of his jean's pockets. He figured he'd dress down for this, so he decided on some jeans and a band t-shirt. He didn't want to intimidate the kid with the whole shebang; he even ditched his sunglasses and left them in the car.

But with the kid just staring at him, he felt very, very exposed. 

Finally, Peter seemed to snap out of whatever daze came over him when Tony entered the apartment, and he waved shyly..

"H-Hi, Mr. Stark," he said, but the kid winced, looking uncomfortable. "Um, I mean…"

He cleared his throat. "You could, you could call me Tony?"

He smiled. "Tony."

When the second awkward silence was about to descend on the room, May thankfully came to the rescue. Bless this woman. After a few audibly nervous phone calls, she'd warmed up to him, thankfully. She was probably still hesitant, but he felt a little better knowing why she was. During one of those phone calls, she admitted to not being a fan of his throughout the years, but she acquiesced she didn't know anything about him outside of the press, so she said she was pleasantly surprised by his attitude toward fatherhood. She said she was happy he got in touch with them.

"Why don't you two go in your room, Peter? You can show Tony your project and you two can talk." When Peter didn't answer, she said. "Or you guys can stay out here with me and Ben. Whatever you want, baby."

"We can go in my room." He lifted his gaze to Tony. "If that's okay with you?"

He tried making his face as reassuring as possible. "Don't worry about me, Peter. Whatever makes you more comfortable. But I'd love to see your projects if that's alright with _you_."

He nodded. "Okay. Um, my room is this way." 

He scurried over to the door Tony had assumed was his the last time he was here, but before he opened it, he whirled around. 

"Wait!" he said. "Did you—Do you want anything to drink? Or food? We have...uh…" He sent a lost, frantic look to his aunt and uncle, and Tony had to stamp down the urge to laugh at the flailing hospitality.

May was amused when she answered, "We have dinner planned for everyone, so you can get Tony something when we eat."

"I'll take a rain check until then," he added.

Peter's face flushed. "Oh, um, right. Okay." He whipped around and opened the door to his room. "Well, here's my room."

Peter stood to his right, and Tony hid his smile at the not-so-subtle kick of a toy under his bed. It was a small room with a twin bed pushed against the wall, a night stand to the right where Peter was standing, and a cluttered desk to the foot of the bed. A closed closet was to Tony's left near the door. 

What really interested him was the decor, though. Legos were on shelves, a half-finished something or other with wires poking out was on the desk, and—his heart stuttered—an Iron Man poster hung on the wall next to a Star Wars one.

When Peter noticed him looking over to his posters, his eyes went wide, and he lunged over to stand in front of it, but he was so short that he only covered the suit's calf.

To save him some embarrassment, he said, "I have an Iron Man poster too."

That tickled the kid's funny-bone, and he laughed. "That just means you have a picture of yourself on the wall."

"Fancy frame and everything." 

"May just has mine in the hallway."

He moved to sit on the bed and tilted his head to make sure it was okay. The kid sat on the other side, so he followed suit. 

"She and Ben showed me some," he said. 

Peter frowned at that, his lower lip sticking out in a pout, and Tony watched as his cheeks flushed. “They showed you all of my Iron Man costumes, didn’t they?”

“Afraid so, kid.” He gently elbowed him on the arm. "I bet you won best costume both times, though. Another kid probably dressed up as Cap, right? Definitely got second place. My design is much better."

He giggled. "Ned definitely liked the helmet Ben bought me."

"Ned?"

"Oh " He twiddled his fingers. "Sorry. That's my best friend. We've been friends since we were six!"

"Six, huh?" Tony remembered seeing a few pictures of a pudgy dark-haired boy with Peter. That must be Ned. "Pretty long time."

"Yeah," he said and moved to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie. 

Tony kind of wished he had some sweatshirt strings to play with when the uncomfortable silence settled.

He cleared his throat. "So...uh—"

"So you're my dad?" Peter interrupted. But as soon as he asked, he looked away and stared at the floor.

Tony linked his fingers together in his lap. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." Tony darted his gaze back and forth between Peter, who was still looking at the ground, and anywhere else in the room. He settled on Peter once more. "May said they explained to you why...why I haven't been around?"

Peter nodded.

"Is that...okay with you? Being your dad, I mean. Are you okay with me sticking around now?"

The kid whipped his head to look at Tony. "Yeah, of course!" He bit his lip. "Is that okay with _you_? Being your son, I mean."

Tony hoped he wasn't making the wrong move, but he lifted his hand to place it on the kid's shoulder. While he did tense for a moment, he quickly relaxed and watched Tony with attentive, hopeful eyes.

"Peter, you being my son is very, very okay with me."

He looked as though he was trying to hide his smile, but it came through brightly anyway.

"Okay," he said softly. "Good. Because you being my dad is okay with me too."

Tony smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

Tony moved his hand from his shoulder to ruffle the kid's curls, and Peter laughed.

"So what's this I hear about a project you're working on?"

Peter's face brightened and he showed him to the mess on his desk, but upon closer inspection, he saw a few small wheels.

"I'm making my own remote control car," Peter told him.

"Very nice." He ducked down to get a closer look, then he turned to his son. "Want to work on that until dinner?"

He didn't think he could look more excited, but Peter managed it with a toothy grin and bursting enthusiasm. 

And as he sat in a too-small chair at Peter's shoulder, directing him if he got stuck on "Zoomer," he smiled. He could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just Google the DVD rewinder--it's a thing.


	4. Sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! One more lead up chapter with Peter and Tony, then we get into some plot next one. Whoot-whoot! I hope you all enjoy!

Peter bounced on his heels, zipping open his duffel bag again to double-check if he had everything. He was going to Tony’s for a sleepover! May and Ben thought it would be a good idea. Tony’d been coming to visit once, sometimes more, every week since his first meeting with Peter a month ago, so they figured it was time to have some one-on-one bonding for the weekend.

He checked that he had all the clothes he needed: socks and underwear, check; pajamas (and not his Iron Man ones; he didn’t want to die of embarrassment), check; clothes for Sunday, check; toothbrush, check; and, last but not least, necklace, check.

Instead of putting it back into his bag, he actually grabbed the metal locket and put it on, the silver chain looping around his neck. The locket itself settled past his heart, and he flicked it gently with a finger. He always half-expected it to ring; the locket was a silver orb, designed to look like a sleigh bell.

No one had been able to open it, but he knew it was his mom’s locket, something she gave him before they left on the plane that crashed. She used to pretend to make the jingle noise to make him laugh as a kid, May told him. He didn’t really remember, but he remembered how May and Ben carried on the tradition at Christmas when they read _The Polar Express_ and when they watched the movie. They’d all _ding-ding_ every time the bell came up, and Peter, with the bell locket around his neck, would _ding-ding_ the necklace that night as he was waiting for Santa to appear.

He didn’t believe in Santa anymore, but he still would pretend to jingle the bell at Christmas; he thought of his parents every time.

Stuffing it down his sweatshirt, he turned back to the duffel and was happy he remembered to bring everything. He almost felt like bragging to May about having everything ready a whole day early. He usually tended to wait until the last minute to pack, like if he went to Ned’s or they went on vacation, so he always forgot at least one thing. He did it so consistently, May thought she’d teach him a lesson by going to a thrift store to buy him the most ugly, obnoxiously ornate sweater when he forgot a jacket.

Peter cringed, knowing it was still in his closet, and he thanked his lucky stars she didn’t show his dad the picture. The Iron Man pictures were enough.

Taking a fearful glance at his closet, he figured it would be a good idea to check his duffel again. Just in case.

 

***

 

When Happy came to get him, he almost sprinted down to the car, but he held onto his excitement long enough to tell May and Ben goodbye.

He chatted with Happy as he followed him to the car, and although he didn’t talk much, he didn’t put the screen up like he did to him and his dad when they went for ice cream on one of Tony’s visits. When Peter first met Happy, he actually thought he was really intimidating with his wide shoulders, black suit, and sunglasses, but his voice was softer than he was expecting, and his dad seemed to really like him. In fact, Tony seemed very relaxed with Happy, and Peter remembered laughing at their banter the first time he came to the apartment.

Now, Happy was pulling up to the Tower, and Peter marvelled at how _tall_ it was. He was also just marvelling that he was _here_ —at _Stark freakin’ Towers_. This was going to be the coolest day of his life.

His dad was waiting for him as soon as the car pulled in, Happy carrying Peter's duffel bag over his shoulder behind him.

"Hey, buddy," Tony greeted, and Peter shuffled into the elevator. An elevator from the _garage_. They didn't even have a garage at their apartment building.

Happy passed the duffel to Tony then addressed Peter. "See you Sunday, kid."

"Bye, Happy! Thanks for bringing me!"

The man just nodded as the doors closed, and he heard Tony snort.

"You know," he said, "by Happy's standards, that's gushing affection right there. Not a grumble to be heard."

Peter giggled but shrugged. "He's nice! He kind of reminds me of Chewbacca.”

He almost startled at the loud chuckle that escaped Tony, but he found himself grinning at making his dad laugh.

“Oh, man,” he said, wiping one eye after his chuckles trailed off. “That’s honestly the best thing I’ve heard all day. So does that mean I’m Han?”

He nodded. “And Pepper’s Leia.”

“Most definitely,” he agreed then poked Peter on the shoulder. “What about you?”

Peter’s first thought was to say _Luke,_  but he wasn’t really the main character type of person, so he just shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

The elevator dinged open, so Tony didn’t answer him back, but he did grin and wave an arm out like he was presenting him with a new car on the game shows Ben liked to watch. Even though it wasn’t a car on a pedestal, it was still just as awesome.

The penthouse suite was _so huge_. The main room was wide and spacious, occupied by a long couch, large kitchen, and wide dining room table. There was a hallway next to a few chairs, and Peter assumed the bedrooms were that way.

As he stepped forward, he leaped what seemed like a foot in the air when a voice, seemingly coming from every wall, said, “Welcome, Master Peter.”

“Way to just jump right into the reveal, J,” Tony said to...something. His dad urged him forward to the hallway, and he explained, “What you just heard was JARVIS, my—”

“Your AI!” Peter interrupted and grinned at the ceiling. “I read an article about him! It didn’t say much, but he sounded so amazing. Is he just hooked up here? Or the whole tower? Or the _internet?"_

“All of the above,” he answered and stopped in front of a door at the end of the curving hallway. Peter wondered why they weren’t going in but didn’t question it as Tony continued. “Think of him as a techy butler. He helps out around the house, in the tower, and in the Iron Man suits. If you ever need anything, just give him a shout.”

“Wow,” he marvelled. “Can I—can I talk to him now?”

“Of course. Just say his name.”

“Okay. Um, h-hi, JARVIS.”

“Hello, Master Peter,” the British voice said.

He excitedly looked over at his dad, and he actually appeared a little smug, but he cajoled him to continue with a nod.

“Why do you call me ‘ _Master' Peter_?” he asked.

“Master is the designated form of address for a young boy not yet an adult.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “So...when does that change? When I’m in high school?”

His vision was filled with brown when Tony ruffled his hair, pushing the curls down into his eyes.

“Not until you’re eighteen, kid,” he answered for JARVIS then pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Ready to see your room?”

He gasped. “My room?”

“Yes, your room. What, did you think I’d make you camp out on the floor?” He adjusted the duffel bag on his shoulder. “Nope, you’ve got this place all to yourself.”

When he turned the knob and opened the door, Peter was right on his heels as they entered, and his jaw dropped.

This was _his room!_ Holy crap, it was amazing! There was a huge bed with a bright red comforter, a desk with a computer, a bunch of LEGO sets on the shelves, a _lightsaber lamp_ , and the theatrical release posters for Star Wars on the wall.

“Oh my—oh my _gosh!_ You didn’t, didn’t have to do all this. This is—oh, man—so incredible! Thank you, Tony! Thank you _so much!”_

He was smiling, but he rubbed the back of his neck after depositing Peter’s stuff on his bed. “Hey, don’t sweat it, kid. I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? I _love it_! I would've been happy on the couch, but this is amazing! My bed is _so big!”_

Tony shook his head with a laugh. “Peter, I wasn’t going to make you sleep on the couch. Billionaire.” He cleared his throat. “Besides, I wanted to make sure you, you know, have a place to stay—whenever. If you want.”

Tony had moved to the other side of the room while he was talking, so Peter peeked over to the right where he was standing near the closet doors. “So I can...come again?”

While he did stuff his hands in his pockets, Tony quickly replied. “Yeah, of course. You’re always welcome.”

Peter’s heart swelled with warmth. Before he could talk himself out of it, he flung his arms around Tony’s torso, but only long enough to mutter, “Thanks, Tony.” Then he was quickly scurrying away and exploring the rest of his room, purposely ignoring Tony's expression.

“Uh,” he heard his dad say behind him. “N-No problem, Pete.”

 

***

 

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly, Tony thought. He showed Peter the rest of the penthouse, then he took him down to the lab where Tony felt like Willie Wonka opening up his doors. The kid’s face lit up so brilliantly, and he never lost that look of wonder the entire time they were there, especially when he met the bots.

It was a bit of a trek to bring them to New York, but now that he was officially moved here with Pepper, he knew he couldn’t leave behind his lovable oafs that beeped and trilled around Peter every few minutes. If it wasn’t DUM-E picking at Peter’s shirt, it was Butterfingers dropping a handful of washers into Peter’s hands (but mostly the floor).

Peter took to them immediately, greeting and patting them each and every time they came over to bug him, and watching him play around with his creations made his heart swell.

He remembered when he went to MIT, just a fifteen-year-old kid trying to prove himself (always, always trying to prove he could be better)—amidst unfriendly peers not liking a child to beat them in class and overly friendly golddiggers looking for an in—he'd found solace in the lab at night, he and DUM-E against the world in the corner. Sure, he met Rhodey when they became roommates, but he didn't really know him or trust him—not until the second year when Rhodey swooped in like a knight in denim and cotton armor.  

It was a party, of course, and he was in the middle of a raucous group he was too stupid to realize he shouldn't have dropped his guard around. The story of many tragic college kids, someone put something in his drink—to see what he'd do, Rhodey told him. And the next offered him drugs on top of it. That was where Rhodey came in, stomping in with an uneven gait (since he’d also been part of the festivities) after hearing the others chortle away about the "wild highschooler." Because he couldn't remember shit and Rhodey _loved_ to tell dramatic stories, the dialogue of him shaming and dumping beer on one changed over the years, but what he never shared, what they kept between the two of them, was Rhodey staying up with Tony all night while he puked his guts out and hanging out with him all day the next day, even taking classes off to watch over his disaster of a roommate.

That was when he realized he wasn't so alone.

The rest of labtime he had Peter help him with his car, and he showed him how to change the breaks—and thus change a tire—and before he knew it, it was 10:00 and time for Peter to go to bed.

The kid actually didn't mind that much, excited to spend time in his new room he hadn't gotten to really explore much, and he reminded Tony about five times he'd see him tomorrow, besides.

He was quite proud of himself for managing the whole day, remembering to feed both Peter and himself and getting him to brush his teeth before bed.

So he should've expected everything to turn sour.

It was two in the morning, and there was a noise in the lab. He barely noticed his playlist had ended until that point. He vaguely remembered JARVIS asking him if he wanted to switch to another, but he must not have answered because his lab was silent. Even the bots were silent, powering up in the corner.

This was his second night up, with just a three-hour sleep before. He didn't know exactly why he couldn't even close his eyes long enough to relax, but here he was, plowing through the coffee and tinkering away.

Pepper was away until tomorrow afternoon, so he didn't feel too bad about spending time in the lab, and he told JARVIS to keep him updated on Peter in case he woke up and needed him. He was going to trudge back up in the morning to spend time with him, but he was content to use his time in the lab. He actually decided to look through a stack of fanmail Pepper’s assistant had opened for him. She saved the pictures, and he flipped through each one.

He smiled at one with Iron Man flying the Hulk over to some blob enemy, but all made him run a hand over each depiction of the yellow and red suit

Finally, he made it to the last one, an untidy title announcing, "Iron Man saves the day!" The bottom half of the page had stacks of tall buildings with uneven windows, and a depiction of his suit was in the middle, flying up to the messy swirl of black and purple up top, a gray missile in his hands.

And that was when he heard it.

The computer he used for some SI projects, the one to his right, made a noise. It was a simple, stupid notification sound that Rhodey had put on because it was Tony’s least favorite. The noise was a strange mismatch of sound effects supposed to mimic a rocket but failing spectacularly, starting with a crash and ending with a warping whoosh, and the ensuing silence echoed in his ears.

He sucked in a shuddering breath, the construction paper crinkling his hands.

_Whoosh-sh._

He gasped, and his heart thundered against his chest painfully and obtrusively.

The only thing he could hear was his heartbeat, and suddenly, the outside silence was ever-deafening, and he was surrounded by darkness. His hands shook, and knocking over the container of something on his desk, the metallic sound was a muffled explosion, and he felt like he was falling.

Fuck, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _breathe_. He needed to take his mask off, he needed to keep flying or stop flying or sit down or stand. He needed, he needed—

Abruptly standing, the chair fell to the floor with a _bang_ and he stumbled forward, knocking his hip against his desk. Something clattered to the floor, but he only made three steps before falling to one knee, and the explosion of pain in his knee actually let him breathe in deeply.

He purposely shot his other knee down so he was kneeling, but the first knock let him breath, so the second sting of pain let another breath in. His hands stretched over the cold floor, and he focused on the sensation of the cuff of his too-long sleeve pushing into his palm.

He gasped in a breath, gasped in another, and he heard JARVIS call to him, but he didn't understand what he said, so he asked chokingly through half-breaths, "J, w-what's—" his breath shuddered "—happening?"

"Sir, I believe you are having a severe anxiety attack." That diagnosis alone almost jolted him out of his _anxiety attack_ , but he could only function enough to pay attention to the next words. "You need to breathe. I've started playing an auditory cue to sync your breaths to."

_Ding…ding...ding…_

"Try to inhale at each noise," JARVIS said.

Despite the fluttering heart and shaky limbs and weak body and absolute panic, he was finally able to calm his breaths—but it did take awhile—matching his to the noise, if only to turn off the damn thing.

Inhale, _ding_. Exhale. Inhale, _ding_. Exhale.

Finally more calmed down, he rolled over and sat up against the end of his desk, not really caring that an edge was poking his back.

"Jesus," he said. "That was...not great, buddy." He patted the floor. "Thanks, J."

"You're welcome, sir, but there is something else I must inform you of."

He groaned, hitting his head against the metal. "What is it?"

"Master Peter is directly outside the lab."

He sputtered and was slightly concerned at the abuse his heart was getting tonight when it skipped at the news. He whirled around to the glass door, and there he was, sitting on a middle step, looking in with wide, tear-filled eyes.

Tony cursed his decision to make the entrance similar to the one in California. He liked the act of going up and down stairs to get to the lab so made the elevator from the penthouse come down to a short, curving flight of stairs—where his son could watch his freak out through the glass walls apparently.

“Shit.”

 

***

 

When Peter finally locked gazes with his father, collapsed on the floor against his desk, his eyes burned and he curled in on himself on the steps.

He just woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, but when he saw an empty room across the hall on his way back, he kind of freaked out a little, so he asked JARVIS where his dad was. He couldn't really go back to sleep, so he decided to go to the lab and see him. But when he exited the elevator, JARVIS suddenly told him to wait at the top of stairs and didn't explain why.

He should've listened because when he got impatient and went down anyway, he was stuck on the other side of glass while his dad was hurt or sick or _dying_. He tugged and tugged at the door, but nothing budged, and his dad didn’t hear him, only continuing to gasp on his hands and knees on the floor. He got scared. He was scared and sat on the step and watched and cried.

He was crying again now that he was looking at Tony but still just sat there on the step even as his dad opened the door. He stared at Tony, just waiting for him to collapse again.

“Peter,” he said, and he sounded a little breathless, but when he didn't answer or move, his dad let the door shut behind him and knelt on a step in front of Peter.

“What are you doing up, bud?” Peter's lower lip wobbled. “Shit, okay, right. You saw all of that, didn't you?” He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “God, I'm so sorry, Peter, and I—I barely know what happened, but I promise I'm okay. I'm okay.”

Peter rubbed away a stream of tears. “You didn't look okay.”

Tony looked pained. “I know. I know, kid. I can't even imagine what that must've been like to watch. I, uh, collapsed pretty good there, huh?” He shook his head and released a breath. “You're probably not going to be falling asleep anytime soon. I probably won't either.”

Peter just shook his head.

“Right. Okay. Let's, uh, let's go upstairs. How does a movie sound? JARVIS can hook us up with whatever you want.”

Peter barely knew if he could get up off these stairs, but he silently nodded, looking down at his feet. They were cold.

Straightening up, Tony stuck a hand in front of Peter's face, offering to lift him up, but Peter saw the slight tremor in them and felt a little nauseous even thinking of taking it. He should've been helping Tony up, not the other way around. And what if he collapsed again by helping Peter up?

When he didn't take his hand, Tony quickly shoved it in his pocket and said, “Right, well, um, follow along then, young buck. Let's get that movie set up.”

And Tony lifted one foot after the other up the stairs, Peter watching his retreating back as he made his way to the elevator, and he felt a sudden surge of panic. Peter bolted up, and just as Tony flicked the doors open with the button, Peter crashed into his back, wrapping his arms around the older man. A light “oof” escaped his dad, but Peter just tightened his grip and pushed his head into his back.

“O-Oh, hey there, Pete.” He patted the hands encircling him.

“You looked like you were dying,” he choked out, and Tony gasped.

“No, no, I'm definitely okay, kid.” He pried Peter's arms off just enough to spin in his hold. His dad took a second, but he rested a hand along Peter's back and one on his head. “Hey, I promise that I'm completely, absolutely okay. I am not going to die. I was just...sick, for a minute, but I'm fine now. Promise.”

Tony's fingers threaded through his curls, and Peter nuzzled into Tony's t-shirt, which smelled like motor oil and something spicy.

“I'm sorry I freaked you out, kid,” he whispered. “Seems there's a lot of that feeling going around tonight.”

Peter didn't know how long they hugged, but after a while, they finally made their way back to the penthouse, Peter feeling better and Tony looking less shaky. He even had a bit more spring in his step as he made a production out of making a fort of pillows and blankets, so they scored them from every room and closet until they were both bundled up on the couch in a cloud of cotton. Peter didn't hesitate to lean up against Tony, and this time, he didn't feel him hesitate either to put an arm around his shoulders.

Peter smiled and snuggled into the fabric and Tony as JARVIS played _Monsters, Inc.,_  and Peter couldn't stop his laughter at his dad's commentary of the movie.

_("Monsters under the bed? And kids are supposed to like this?"_

_("Why would she think he's a cat? Is she blind?")_

It wasn't until the climax of the movie, when Sully and Mike were jumping through portals to save Boo, that Peter finally closed his eyes to sleep, the rhythmic motion of his dad's thumb brushing against his arm lulling him to sleep.

 

***

 

When Peter blinked his eyes open, he was confused to find himself in his bed—well, his bed at Tony’s place (which he still couldn’t believe he had his own awesome room!). He remembered falling asleep in front of the TV, but maybe he walked himself here when he was really tired? Or maybe...Tony tucked him in?

He snuggled into the comforter with a smile at that thought. That is, until he looked at the time.

“Ten?!” he gasped. The whole day was over! He only had a few more hours before Tony or Happy took him back home.

Whipping the blankets off, he quickly shed his pajamas and put on new clothes before darting out of the bedroom. Tony was seated at the island and sent him a warm greeting, but Peter skidded to a stop when he saw there was an extra person in the kitchen, blushing now that he saw who it was.

“Ms. Potts!” he yelped.

She smiled. “Hello, Peter.” She set her coffee mug down and gestured for him to come closer. “Come have breakfast.”

While he hopped on the stool next to Tony, Pepper turned to pour him a glass of orange juice, and he accepted the glass with a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Ms. Potts.”

She sent him an amused smile with a shake of her head. “One of these days I’ll get you to call me Pepper.”

“I don’t know, Pep,” Tony said. “Kid’s pretty set in his ways. Only eats PB&J with strawberry jam. There’s no changing a man like that.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “Grape tastes like medicine, and orange is weird with peanut butter.”

Tony laughed. “No arguments here.” He leaned in to faux whisper with an exaggerated hand blocking his mouth. “Pepper’s the weird one who likes marmalade on her sandwiches.”

She nodded seriously. “I do. _And_ it’s my favorite.”

He couldn’t stop the “ew” that left his mouth, so he was relieved when Tony and Pepper just laughed.

It wasn’t long before he had a colorful bowl of Froot Loops in front of him, and he listened as his dad and Ms. Potts talked about some stuff on the news and work stuff. She got into town early and already stopped by some of the departments in the tower before coming back to spend time with them.

He was glad she was here. Ever since meeting her weeks ago, he really liked Ms. Potts, especially when he found out she used to play with Legos when she was younger too. He even convinced her to help him put a set together while she and Tony visited one day. Peter wasn’t entirely sure why she was there with Tony at first, but he didn’t mind when she continued to visit a few times. She was really nice, and she made his dad smile a lot, so that was a definite plus.

Having her around right now was great, not only because Peter liked her, but because...he was worried about his dad. He needed to smile more after last night. Peter didn’t really know what happened, but Tony seemed okay this morning; although he looked a little tired, he wasn’t pale or shaking anymore.

Throughout the rest of the day before he left, Peter tried to get Tony to tell him what even happened and whether he was alright, but he avoided the questions, only giving him vague things like, “It won’t happen again” or “I just need more sleep is all, kid.”

Frankly, it was a little frustrating—and disappointing. He actually thought Tony would’ve answered him. After Tony’s second visit, Peter asked him a question Tony must not have thought he’d understand the answer to because he avoided it like he was doing now and giving him vague answers that really didn’t help. Tony actually laughed and apologized when Peter unintentionally wrinkled his nose and scowled. His dumbed down answers were just reminding him of the teachers at school who’d do the same, so ever since then, Tony’d been really honest and straightforward about any of Peter’s questions.

Not this time, though.

Peter just wanted to know so he could _help._ It was terrifying watching Tony gasp and shake on the ground for minutes on end when he couldn’t do anything, but if he knew what happened and what it was, he could fix it.

Despite what happened last night, Peter did have a really fun time and wanted to come back, but if Tony wasn’t going to tell him, he’d just have to figure it out on his own.

Nodding to himself while keeping an eye on his dad as he drove him back home, he was determined to find out what was wrong with him. There was no way that was just some random fluke that wouldn’t happen again. It would, and Peter was going to be prepared for when it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote that whole scene in lab thinking they were in the Cali lab still (oops lol), so hopefully my quick explanation as to why there are stairs wasn't too forced!
> 
> Also, I'm super excited because I'm finally going to see Far From Home tomorrow!!


	5. Secret Stark Society

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Far From Home was great, and I just about died at the ending credits scene! So glad I stayed for them all :D
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this one because this is when stuff starts ramping up, and we have a surprise guest at the end!

As soon as Tony was back in the penthouse, he tossed his jacket over the back of the couch. Damn, he was glad those meetings were over. He had substantially less now that Pepper was CEO, but as owner and board member, he still had to trudge into the company often enough to want to zoom out in his _other,_ flashier suit. Mainly because, although an effective chairman, said chairman was _boring_. 

He snorted when Pepper did much the same, tossing her hair tie on the counter and following him to the kitchen. She couldn't stay long because she was on her way to California to help with transitioning headquarters to New York, but they had a few moments to relax before she left. 

While he put some coffee on, grabbing the cinnamon creamer for Pepper, she fiddled with her phone, leaning against the counter.

He immediately felt more energized the moment the coffee bean smell hit his nose, but he frowned at Pepper's pinched expression.

“What's with the face? Sad dog video?” he asked. “Picture of Rhodey?”

Slowly, she placed the phone on the counter and went to retrieve her mug. 

“No, nothing like that. It's just...you know what's been happening on the news? Those explosions?”

“What about them?”

Frankly, he’d been wondering about them too. They were cropping up in a few places around the world these past couple of months, and while no one was attributing them to one cause (although the news stations spent countless hours debating over the origins), Tony thought there was something else going on. There was no way all of these “random” explosions were actually random. _L_ _ab malfunctions and gas_ _leaks_ , _my ass,_  he thought.

“Look,” she said, gesturing to her phone while she filled up her mug. “Someone has just claimed these as terrorist attacks.”

“What?” He snatched the phone from the counter. 

_Mandarin Declares War against the World!_

A little dramatic of a headline, but according to the article, authorities didn't know jack shit about the “Mandarin” outside of his name. No patterns to the bombings, and no idea where this guy was or what he looked like. Just a distorted voice from a shitty audio file that said he was doing this to purge the world of those ill prepared to run it. 

"You haven’t heard anything from Rhodey?” Pepper asked.

He tapped his fingers against the side of the mug, putting the phone down. “No, nothing from _Iron Patriot_.” He made an effort not to frown at that. Or roll his eyes.

“Good,” she said, and he raised an eyebrow at her. 

She placed a hand on his arm. “That means they have it covered. Besides, I think I’d prefer you to stay out of this one, Iron Man. We’ve been around enough explosions to last us a lifetime.”

“You, certainly, but me? It’s been three weeks since something blew up in the lab—I have the signage and everything—so I feel like I’m due for a little singeing around the hairline.”

She shook her head with an amused smile, settling against his side. “Should I have the fire department on standby while I’m away?”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I have DUM-E.”

“Oh, yes.” She hummed. “Very reliable choice.”

Placing a quick kiss to his cheek, they settled into a comfortable morning. They finished their coffee, and Tony leaned up against the headboard in their room while Pepper finished packing. It was finally around mid afternoon when Pepper left for her flight, and Tony found himself back on his phone. He frowned at the overwhelming amount of Mandarin articles, all with nothing more to report than any of the others.

He played the audio recording. There was a lot of nonsense about domination and fate, but at the end, he frowned.

“Humankind marches into oblivion at the heels of your CEOs, presidents, and prime ministers, but there’s hope. You’ll never see me coming.”

The audio clicked off. 

He tapped again on the article. “The Mandarin, huh?”

 

***

 

Peter was on the lookout tonight. He'd done his research online and at the library, he studied the symptoms, and he was ready. His dad had a panic attack—or anxiety attack (he actually wasn't sure what the difference was)—so Peter was going to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't get nervous again tonight when he visited. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what it was at first, but he trusted his dad when he told him he wasn’t going to die, so he ruled out anything terminal. Then he looked for stuff that made it hard to breathe. Peter knew what asthma was like—he had it himself—so he ruled that one out too since it didn’t really remind him of what Peter ever went through if he had an asthma attack. Tony also hadn’t been coughing, and Peter couldn’t ever remember him ever coughing except when Peter told a lame joke while he was drinking, so he crossed out stuff like emphysema and pneumonia. 

He was at first worried it might have something to do with his heart since Tony had the arc reactor in his chest (which Peter had only seen through his dad’s t-shirts), but he remembered a weird thing his dad said when he hugged him that night: “ _I'm sorry I freaked you out, kid._   _Seems there's a lot of that feeling going around tonight.”_

And that was what brought him to panic/anxiety attack.

It'd been a couple of weeks since his sleepover, and they'd seen each other a few times since then, but Peter felt prepared now that he was pretty positive he knew what happened. And relieved to know the attacks weren't going to kill his dad. He'd had a few sleepless nights imagining his dad collapsed on the floor again, having no one there with him. He imagined another police officer coming to the door to tell him someone else was gone.

He didn't want that to happen again.

So he had his filled-out notebook about anxiety, which he planned to keep with him in his pocket, and he had an hour until he got here.

He was actually a little nervous himself; he didn’t want Tony to think he was being too nosy or pushy or anything, so he planned to keep the notebook tucked away. He’d kept it hidden pretty much since he’d started writing in it, to be honest. He didn’t want May or Ben to worry about it, or make Tony upset by telling someone he had a panic/anxiety attack (panxiety attack? He tapped his chin. Yeah, he liked that).

When he got here for dinner, Peter was going to make sure there was nothing stressful around for his dad, and he even convinced Ben to play that soft jazz CD he liked for everyone. It was kind of boring for Peter, but he didn’t mind if it put Tony at ease. He also had some classic rock songs on their laptop if he didn’t like that. And May had a few too he could play. She really liked Rush.

So they had music, he had some activities planned, movies on cue, dinner, and Peter’s favorite dessert: ice cream—but he remembered what Tony got last time they went out, so Peter asked May to get cookie dough flavor.

He had everything covered. And if, for some reason, none of that worked, he wrote down stuff to help with panxiety attacks.

  * __Stay with Tony.__


  * __Don’t freak out too__


  * _Ask what he needs me to do_


  * _Remind him to breathe_


  * _Count to ten or whatever number seems good_


  * _See if he can describe his surroundings maybe, or I can do it? Possibly?_



Peter really had no clue if any of this stuff would work, but that was why he had a couple of options, just in case some of them didn’t help. He settled down on his bed, feet on his wall and head tilting off the side of his mattress (he always thought it was kind of cool to sit upside down). Flipping to the beginning of his notes, he decided to study everything one more time before Tony got here.

If anything happened, he’d be ready.

By the time he made it to the last page for the third time, he felt like he had it down, and he could feel the blood pooling in his head. Shutting the notebook, he yelped when he saw Tony leaning up against his door frame, an amused smile on his face. 

“How’s it hanging, kid?” he asked.

“Nothing!” he squeaked, righting himself, then proceeded to chuck the notebook farther than he intended across the room where it audibly smacked against the wall then plopped on the ground.

Tony blinked over at the discarded notebook then back at Peter.

“Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all.” 

Peter just nervously chuckled.

“Uh-huh.” Tony raised an eyebrow then shook his head, coming into the room more. “I’m not going to ask. Just a note of advice for you next time, though.” He leaned over like he was about to tell Peter a secret. “May want to keep your door shut if you’re doing something you don’t want others to find out about.”

Peter ducked his head, and if his face wasn’t already beat red, it sure would be now.

“Not that you should be doing anything you need to hide from anyone,” he continued quickly. “Uh, because, you know, openness and stuff with your family. Making good decisions. All that fun stuff.”

Now with a teasing grin, it was Peter’s turn to say, “Uh-huh.”

Tony gently shoved his head, and Peter laughed. “Yes, _uh-huh._ That was great advice. Don’t make me tell on you for being sassy.”

“You always are first!”

“Another note of advice: don’t do what I would do.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked. “You’re Tony Stark!”

Peter frowned and tilted his head when his dad stiffened, but the next moment was quick, Tony stepping forward to ruffle his hair and muttering a wry, “Exactly.”

“Come on, kid!” he continued, waving him over and calling over his shoulder, “We’re on potato-peeling duty while Ben does something impressive with chicken.”

Hesitating as he watched Tony’s back retreat into the kitchen, Peter finally got up, but he made a point of picking up the notebook and hiding it under his mattress.

“Coming!” he called and followed, smiling when he heard the jazz playing already while they waited for May to get home from work.

He nodded to himself. Tonight would be good.

***

 

Tony’s eyes kept drifting up toward the cupboard above the stove, but he took a pointed sip of his tea. Peter was strangely insistent about all of them having tea after dinner despite the mound of sugar and milk he put in his.

The kid was kicking his feet a little as he sat in between Ben and himself, carefully sipping out of his Disney mug—at least, he thought it was Disney. It had some blue monster on it with big, black eyes and huge ears.

He was actually surprised Peter wasn’t bored out of his mind ever since May put the news on, but it was a nighttime ritual for the family, so he must’ve succumbed to entertaining himself for an hour long ago. 

Tony smirked. And he was entertaining himself if those kicks were anything to go by. Left leg was one. Right leg was zero.

01010000\. 01000101. 01010100. 01000101. 01010010.

P.E.T.E.R.

He nudged the boy with his elbow, careful not to spill his tea, and Peter blinked up at him. He tilted his head toward his feet, which he tapped on the carpet.

01001000\. 01001001.

H.I.

He watched as Peter scrunched his brow, mouthing the code to “I” until a wide grin overtook his face, and he beamed at Tony. That bright expression—and at Tony—made his heart clench, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

Peter pointed down to his legs and kicked.

H.E.L.L.N.

Tony let out a breath of laughter and mouthed “O.”

01001111.

Tony smiled at the way he wrinkled his nose, but Peter spelled the whole word out correctly then peeked over at Tony with a tentative smile, and the words from earlier echoed.

_“Why wouldn’t I? You’re Tony Stark!”_

Other words came to mind too, just like they came to mind in Peter’s room, the young, more disdainful voice looping in his brain.

_“Why should I? Because you’re Howard Stark?”_

He felt sickened with himself for even _looking_ at that fucking cupboard today, especially because he wasn't even in his own _house_ ; the whole reason that memory stuck out was because of what was behind that door. He tightened his grip on his cup then stood. Peter looked at him, confusion in his eyes, and he merely mumbled in answer, “More tea.”

“Oh,” he said. “Okay.”

Ben called that he put the milk back in the fridge if he wanted some, but Tony just took it as is. He tilted the ornate teapot, a massive thing that was probably two times the size of a typical English teapot, and watched as the amber liquid slowly filled the cup, a couple of leaves slipping through and floating on top for a moment. They dipped under the liquid and floated to the bottom.

He looked back up over to Peter and felt a stab of guilt at leaving so abruptly. He wasn’t kicking his feet anymore, and his head was down. He felt the presence of the cupboard four feet to his right.

He took the sugar spoon from the bowl and tapped it against his cup. Tap for one, scratch for zero.

P.E.T.E.R.

Peter didn’t really perk up until he hit the second E, so he tapped and scratched it again, and he turned around to Tony, a small smile on his face.

Tony waved, and Peter laughed, waving back.

“Alright,” May piped in as he walked back, and he saw the fond twinkle in her eyes. “What’s this secret tapping code you two are giggling about?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said, sitting back next to Peter. “And if I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Secrets, you know.”

He winked at Peter, and the kid shrugged at his aunt. “Sorry, May. Secrets, you know.”

She dramatically sighed and turned to Ben. “I feel we’ve just been banned from a club. No aunts and uncles allowed.”

He hummed. “Banned from the Stark Society.”

“The Tony and Peter Show.”

“ _Secret_ Stark Society.”

She laughed, and Ben grinned at her. “Oh, I like that one. What about our club? We kind of need one now.”

“The Ben and May Show.”

She snickered. “Perfect.”

Tony felt himself settling into the cushions, especially when he felt Peter’s arm against his own, as he listened to the banter. Peter didn’t even seem like he realized he was resting against Tony as he looked between his aunt and uncle.

“I’m already feeling outnumbered and Tony hasn’t even left yet,” he said, and May laughed as she got up to go to the kitchen, planting a kiss on her nephew’s head on the way by. 

“Secrets, you know,” she said, and Ben snorted before following her now that it was commercial break.

Peter groaned and slumped into Tony’s side. “They’re gonna be even more gross and eye fluttery now. They already just can look at each other and _know_ stuff. Like they can read each other’s minds, and it’s weird.” He narrowed his eyes at Tony. “Are you and Miss Potts like that? Is that an adult thing?”

He poked Peter’s chest and said, “You’ll get it when you want to be in the Peter and Somebody You Like Show.”

He blushed. "I-I don't know about that." He paused then shook his head. “But if I can’t read their mind, I’ll be super disappointed.”

Tony snorted. “Noted.”

Peter was about to say something else, but the news came back on with a frantic “Breaking News” banner, smoke, and emergency personnel. Tony sat straight, jostling Peter a little.

There was another explosion.

His heart dropped a moment when he saw it was in California, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he read the specific location. Nowhere near Pep. When the camera changed to a woman crying near the scene, Ben swooped in to mute the TV.

The quiet of the room was quickly disturbed by the buzzing in Tony’s pocket, and he nearly jumped off the couch. He forgot he’d changed the settings to a ridiculously severe vibration so he’d hear it and not have to use a ringtone when he was listening to music.

Fishing it out of his jeans, his eyes widened at the name on caller ID— _Capsicle_ —not only because he was actually surprised the old man even knew how to use a phone, but he hadn’t heard from him since he’d left on his soul-searching road trip after they sent Loki with Thor.

He excused himself to the outside hallway, ruffling Peter’s hair (something he noticed he’d been doing a lot), and he cleared his throat, answering after a moment of hesitation, “Why, Mr. Rogers, is it another wonderful day in the neighborhood?”

“What?” Steve’s voice paused. “That's another reference, isn't it?”

“Got it in one. What can I do for you? From what I remember, you were cruising around on two wheels.”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling actually.”

He raised an eyebrow, but continued, “If you have a flat, there is such a thing as Triple A. You could—”

“Stark, this is serious!” he interrupted.

Tony’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. “What do you mean?”

“Those terrorist attacks, Tony. The Mandarin. They’re...not what everyone thinks. I was there as the last one went off. It wasn’t a bomb at all; it was a man. A man _exploded_.”

_“What?”_

“Call Dr. Banner,” he said. “We’ll meet in New York.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Steve! :D 
> 
> It always kind of bothered me that none of the Avengers or SHIELD showed up for Iron Man 3 at all. I mean, people were exploding and the president was kidnapped, so it seemed like something that would be on their radar. So here is the start of my AU to fix that, nyahaha.
> 
> Also, hope I did alright with the binary code! I love the Morse code fics with these two, but I thought they may be likely to know binary a little more. My favorite was actually by madasthesea, "the stars the moon they have all been blown out (you left me in the dark)," where Peter does it for Tony and he draws the question mark on his hand ❤️


	6. Arrival of Captain Late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o! Hope you all had a good weekend, and thank you all so much for reading and leaving comments and kudos. I really appreciate it!
> 
> I stole a line from the movie because I remember laughing in the theater and it seemed to fit the situation, so bonus! Iron Man 3 plot is coming in hot here, but I hope no one minds me making a few tweaks. It'll all be worth it!

Tony tapped his foot on the ground as he checked the clock again. Bruce was the calm one, slowly swiping through something or other on his tablet while they waited until Captain _Late_ finally arrived. 

“Tony,” the scientist said, putting down the tablet with a sigh. “He’ll be here. He’s taking _your_ private jet. You know when he left, when he’s getting here, even who is piloting.” He sighed again. “So please stop tapping your foot and pacing. He’s on his way. He'll be here tonight.”

Tony groaned and dropped his head back onto the headrest of the chair.

“Impatience doesn’t understand logic, Brucie. It just knows that I wanted to work on the Case of the Exploding People three days ago, and we’re just _now_ getting the info Steve has because he doesn’t understand how emails work so has to tell us in _person_.”

“He’s getting better,” Bruce said. “He told me he got a CD player at a garage sale to try out. Baby steps.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “ _Very_ baby steps.”

Bruce hummed, turning his attention back to his tablet, and Tony could see the newest headline about the Mandarin; the man who blew up in California destroyed a tourist trap, and the Mandarin said it was his doing. 

“I do admit I’m pretty curious about this whole...combustion issue,” Bruce said. “What could be the cause?”

Before Tony could say anything, the other man cut him off. “Actually, you’re just going to say we can’t figure it out because Steve isn’t here yet. So I’ll just...wonder silently.”

Tony just huffed and whipped out his phone. He’d already called Pepper and asked her if she knew anything. She knew less than him (and was less than pleased he was getting involved), but she said Happy, as well as every other security detail in the state, was going into a paranoid frenzy. Frankly, he was fine with Happy taking every precaution now that a gravelly voiced terrorist was on the loose blowing people up.

She wasn’t able to talk long because she had a meeting scheduled with a small company looking for investments. AIM, he thought it was. And the reason he had doubts about the name was because when he looked into it after their call, he couldn’t really find much about them, like they had just registered their name that day, although Pep mentioned the company’d been around for a few years. She knew the owner from school or something, she said.  

He’d hear more about it later, though. Pepper was due for a few more meetings today, but she said she’d call once she was finished as long as he was able to talk. Who knew where this exploding people thing got him? 

He and Bruce had done a little work. Tony had managed to find a street cam in the area, but all it showed before it shorted out or blew to pieces was an orange glow around the pixelated image of the guy. Bruce was looking into what that could be biologically, Tony mechanically. He wasn’t having much luck, especially when Steve swore up and down all the guy had on was a sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. He’d cleared the footage up a little, but the glow wasn’t originating from any particular spot on the man (the sweatshirt like he thought it might); it seemed to be evenly emanating from his skin.

He already threatened to fly down to California himself, but everyone and their mother _—_ mainly Bruce _—_ said that was a dumb idea since law enforcement cleaned that site up quicker than quick. 

So now he waited.

Looking down at his phone, he swiped to his contacts, hovering over Ben’s name. Peter didn’t have a phone yet (that was going to be a birthday gift for his twelfth birthday, according to the Parkers), so he had to call Ben or May to talk to him since they recently got rid of their landline.

He found himself wanting to talk to Peter a lot, thinking about what he’d say to this or that—and it kind of weirded him out most days. He didn’t think about it much while actually visiting or talking to Peter, but the moments when he was alone in the lab or sitting on the couch like now, ready to click the contact name, he was startlingly reminded that he suddenly had someone he actively wanted to spend time with. 

Before, it was just Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy. The trifecta. And sure, he liked Bruce and would work with him in the lab, even wanted him to stick around to get into mad scientist mischief with him, but did he know him well enough to think he _would_ actually stick around? No. Natasha and Clint were temporary, swooping in for the next Avengers get together, probably. He hadn’t seen either since New York. Thor was off-world, and Tony had absolutely no clue if he’d see him next week or when he was eighty, still looking like Viking Baywatch. And Steve? Well, that was just a can of worms he didn’t really want to get into.

But now he had an addition to his list: Peter. He _wanted_ to call him and hear about the kid’s school, about how he was bored in math and hated gym, about what new Lego set Ned got. He wanted to tell Peter about what he was working on in the lab, see those eyes light up as he explained parts of Iron Man or JARVIS or even his car. 

Sure, the kid talked about shows and comics he didn’t understand and could be a little long-winded at times, but Tony didn’t care. And that in and of itself was a little strange. He wasn't one to draw out an unnecessary conversation longer than necessary, and _he_ would be the one to dominate a conversation if he did, but he didn’t mind just sitting and listening to this eleven-year-old boy talk nonsense for an hour.

It was still so strange. 

Shooting a quick look to Bruce, he pressed Ben's number and waited. But with a pang of disappointment, the call went to voicemail. Ben must be at work now, so he sent a quick text to let the man know he didn’t call for anything important.

Maybe he could talk to him later. He’d probably be excited to know his second favorite hero was going to be back in town. Looking at the clock again, he grumbled. Eventually.

 

***

 

Peter totally screwed up. Maybe it was because he thought someone was following him all day (even though it was always a cat or teacher or random lady on her phone) so was pretty jumpy, or maybe it was because he was such a terrible liar. Either way, he felt like smacking his forehead into the wall.

He told Ned Tony was his dad. Not just that some guy named Tony was his dad, but that Tony _Stark_ , Iron Man, was his dad. It was already a shock to know that Peter had met his biological father, but to know the man they both idolized was _Peter’s dad?_  He was pretty sure he short-circuited his friend.

They had been putting together a DeLorean Lego set as they talked about their Thanksgiving plans, and Peter, not even really thinking, said he was going to his dad’s house. _His dad’s_ house. So he floundered and ended up spilling everything, and now Ned was staring at him with his mouth agape.

“Whoa,” he said. 

Peter leaped up to his knees. “You can’t tell anybody, Ned!”

“What?” he asked, shaking out of his shock. “But dude! Your dad is _Iron Man_ ! Iron Man! How can you not tell _everyone_?” He bounced on the bed, shaking off the last few pieces of their DeLorean. “This is the best day of my life!”

“No, seriously, you can’t tell anyone. I wasn’t even supposed to tell _you_ ,” he said, face pleading. He then paused and scratched his head. “Well, I guess I don’t know if I could’ve told you. I haven’t actually _asked_. I just know May and Ben haven’t told anyone.”

“They haven’t?” he asked. “How come it’s a secret?”

Peter opened his mouth to answer but stopped. He actually didn’t really know. No one had gotten together to discuss what their plan was about letting people know or if they should or why. Why _was_ this a secret?

He frowned. “I’m...not sure.”

“Maybe because Iron Man’s a famous superhero? You know, like Top Secret stuff. Maybe you have a cool Top Secret folder with your name on it, and it's in an Indiana Jones warehouse with, like, the arc reactor and alien stuff!”

As cool as that would be, he didn't think that was the reason, and the more he thought about it, the less it made sense. Sure, it could be like the comic book superheroes where they kept their identity a secret to protect their family members, but Tony had press conferences for everything and didn't seem to keep important stuff secret. He told the whole world he was Iron Man after all. Everything about his life was televised. Peter didn’t really get why Tony would want everyone to know all those things about him, but if they knew everything from when his parents died to how long he and Ms. Potts were dating, why didn’t everyone know about Peter?

What made Peter different?

His smile was small as he picked at a loose piece of elastic on his socks. “Maybe.”

“You can always just ask him.” He leaned forward with a grin and poked Peter. “Then you can ask if I can meet him! And Captain America! And Hulk! Can I just meet everyone?”

Peter laughed, swatting Ned’s hand away. “ _I_ haven’t even met them yet.”

“Okay, but you’ll still invite me over to meet Iron Man.” He grinned. “ _That_ will be the best day of my life. For sure.”

He bent down to grab the stray pieces of DeLorean. “Sure, Ned. I’ll ask.”

“Sweet!”

The rest of the day went as usual but was peppered with random questions about what it was like to have Tony as a dad: What was he like, was he a good dad, has he seen the Iron Man suit, has he talked about his adventures, was he glad Tony was his dad?

Was he glad? He smiled. Yeah, he was. Although it was absolutely amazing to be able to talk to _the_ Tony Stark, it was even more amazing to just...have a dad. He’d spent countless night imagining what his biological parents could be like, and he really liked Tony. He was funny and nice to Peter, and it wasn’t just Peter who wanted to hang out; _Tony_ wanted to spend time with him too. 

At least he thought so. Tony always seemed to have a good time with Peter, so he assumed. 

Now that Ned brought up the secret, now he wasn’t really sure. Had Tony told anyone? Did he...not _want_ anyone to know he had a son? He twiddled his fingers. Or just that _Peter_ was his son?

Home from Ned’s and sitting on his bed, Ben’s phone in hand, he bit his lip. Tony called to talk earlier, so this was the perfect opportunity to ask him his questions. He could tell him about Ned and ask why everyone was keeping Peter a secret.

Taking a deep breath in, he clicked on Tony’s name.

  


***

 

“ _This_ is why we’ve been waiting?” Tony asked, eyeing the woman who trailed in after Steve through the elevator: black, wavy hair; shrewd expression, but with a smirk like she knew something the rest of them didn’t; a large tote bag over her shoulder; and...something he couldn’t place that was poking at the deep recesses of his brain.

Steve’s lips thinned. “Yes, Tony. _This_ ,” he gestured to the woman, “is Maya Hansen. She’s a scientist who can tell us about these explosions.”

She approached him, hand outstretched. “I would say nice to meet you, but we’ve already met. I take it you don’t remember me?”

He looked at her again and couldn't help but hear the parallels of her words and the words of one Karen Phan. No, he didn't remember.

“Don’t be offended,” he said, shaking her hand. “I don’t remember what I had for breakfast.”

“Gluten-free waffles, sir,” JARVIS chimed in, and he hummed appreciatively. Maya blinked, startled, and raised her eyebrows.

“Impressive,” she said. “AI or very attentive security?”

“Ah, well that would be telling, wouldn’t it? Back to the part about us meeting. Who are you?”

“Maya Hansen,” she replied cheekily, her eyes twinkling in amusement when he just raised an eyebrow at her. “We met at a New Year’s party years ago. Switzerland, 1999. I showed you my research as well as _my research._ If you know what I mean, which I’m sure you do.”

He cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. Nineteen ninety-nine. Checks out.” He adjusted his red-tinted glasses. “What research would that be?”

Bruce stepped forward from his position in the corner. “That’s something I’d like to know too.”

“Well, then,” she said and lifted her laptop out of her bag, “shall we start?”

He clapped his hands together and nodded behind her. “Set up at the empty desk in the corner, and let’s hop to it.”

Her lips tugged up in amusement before she agreed, and Bruce trailed behind her. This lab was similar to the one he’d given Bruce, so he’d help her out. He stopped by Steve who had plopped down on one of the swivel chairs.

“So how the hell’d you find her?” he asked.

Steve, always one for manners, stood because he was. “SHIELD, actually.”

“Oh?” 

“I called Natasha, and she had someone look into it. Found some sort of record back around the time you met Ms. Hansen and found a report of plants exploding. They figured it was connected, so I followed her to a lab near Malibu.” He paused and tilted his head. “I thought you lived there, actually.”

“How could I resist a post-invasion city?” he asked, turning toward the dual scientists setting up in the corner. “Second big change to this city since you woke up, Sleeping Beauty. May as well be in the center.” 

Tony didn’t turn and just heard a quiet, “Maybe so.”

He shifted and peered through his sunglasses to find him staring out the large window to their right. Staring out to see a city rebuilding, a city unlike his own, or just that: a city. 

That expression of contemplation was almost picturesque against the night sky, New York’s thousands of lights blinking up at them. Seeing only part of his face and most of his back, in his brown leather jacket, slicked over hair, and cuffed khakis, he really did look like a picture. Like when Tony had found a worn photo of him in an old box and wondered why his dad loved him so much. 

He felt like he was looking at a ghost of the past, duller than this untouchable hero, yet more complex and fascinating than the star-spangled Uncle Sam he always imagined. 

There were moments where he truly did embody the poised stature of the trading cards and heroic quality of a black-and-white man waving to troops, but there were others, like this, where it was like watching someone toddle around at Halloween in his clothes. The two together...was somewhat jarring.

Shaking his head, Tony nodded to Maya and talked to the cosplay Cap. “How’d you manage getting her all the way out here? You just fluttered your lashes and convinced her to board a plane to New York? Sly dog.”

He turned with a roll of his eyes. “Once I explained the situation, she _volunteered_.” He followed his gaze to Bruce and Maya. “She wants to fix this as much as we do.”

Tony nodded and hooked his sunglasses to the collar of his shirt. “Let’s get to work then.”

He made his way over to the two scientists just as Maya was bringing up a few diagrams. 

“It’s called Extremis,” she said.

Then she explained. It was a way to rewire the brain and tweak the cells in order to exponentially heal the body of physical wounds, even going so far as to regrow limbs. 

“It’s both chemical and biological,” she said. “The problem I’m facing, though, deals with the unique qualities of each human body—each specimen: plants, animals, bugs. Like how some people have more serotonin in their brain or less iron in their blood. No one is exactly the same, but the reaction to get the cells to evolve into something else is _extremely_ exact. I’ve tried my best to gauge what will react negatively and what won’t, but it’s unstable.”

She turned a grim expression to each of them. “I have no idea how the Mandarin got ahold of this research, but he’s obviously just been hoping for the explosive reaction, not the medical one. If we can perfect Extremis, we may be able to help those fallen victim to the Mandarin before he can use them again.”

“Have there been any successful cases?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, actually,” she said as she pulled another window up. “A bit of a random list, to be honest. An orange tree, a mosquito, a—”

She was cut off by JARVIS. “Sir, you have a call from Master Peter. Shall I direct it to your phone?”

He couldn't stop the pleased twitch of his lips, but he smothered it down when he saw every occupant in the room looking back at him with varying levels of questions on their faces.

" _Master_ Peter?" Bruce echoed.

Ignoring the question, he glanced over at the time: nine. He wouldn't be on the phone too long. It was a school night, although the last one before Thanksgiving break, so Peter probably wouldn't be up too much later. He knew May and Ben tried to keep him to a pretty even schedule during the week—finding that out the hard way when May bitched him out over the phone for keeping Peter up until midnight two weeks ago.

Already backing up, he said, “Yeah, JARVIS. Just give me a sec.” He turned to Maya and plucked a page of data from her bag, grabbing his phone from his pocket with the other hand. “I'll study while I'm gone. Be back in a jiff.”

"Tony!" Steve yelled.

Waving over his shoulder, he ducked into the elevator, ignoring more of the confused protests. He’d only be a few minutes.

“Hey, Pete, what’s up?”

“Hi, Tony,” he said, a little quieter than usual which made him frown. “Uncle Ben said you called earlier, but I actually called to...to talk to you about something?”

His frown deepened. “Sure, kid, what is it?”

“Uh,” he said, and Tony could hear him shift on the other end of the line. “Well, um, I kind of wanted to talk about...us? Is that okay?”

He felt a painful swoop in his stomach, and he clutched the paper with his free hand. If there wasn't a heavy dread settling over his shoulders, he'd laugh at the absurdity of his son sounding like a generic breakup line.

His smile was strained. “Totally fine, buddy. What—What do you want to want to talk about?”

There was a moment of silence. “Remember how when you first came over and I asked if it was okay that I was your son?"

Tony carefully let himself down to the couch in the penthouse, brow scrunched. "Yeah, kid, I remember. I said I was happy about it." He heard the paper crumple further in his hand as he tightened his fist. "Is this about...what I asked you? Whether you were happy that I was your dad? Are you— _not_ anymore?"

"What?" Peter squeaked. "No! Wait, I mean, yes!" He made a noise Tony couldn't really identify, just a hiccup of his voice. "I mean, I'm still really, _really_ happy you're my dad, Tony. You're the best!"

He placed the paper in his lap as his heart flip-flopped from icy dread to warm _happiness._ "Oh," he said, and he could feel the tension uncoil from his stomach. "T-That's great, Pete. Really great." Shaking off the lingering sentiment, he lightened his voice. "Glad you don't mind me loitering around your apartment."

"I'm really glad you loiter, Tony," Peter said, soft but exact in each word, and moments like these were the ones Tony was absolutely astounded by the sincerity of kids _—_ especially of his kid. 

His arc reactor hummed. "I'm glad I loiter too." 

"Yeah?" he asked, voice quiet. "And...when I loiter?"

He smiled. "Definitely glad."

Peter let out this little happy hum _,_ and they settled into a contended silence until there was shifting on the other line again, and Peter asked, more confident this time. "Can I ask another question?"

"Anything," he said and was silently floored at the way he didn't hesitate, didn't joke around, and just gave his undivided attention to...his son.

He shook his head. Maybe it really wasn't that much of a surprise.

"Why am I a secret?"

He blinked. “What?”

"A secret. Like, no one knows about me. I don't think May and Ben have told anyone, and I haven't—well, I _accidentally_ told Ned today, sorry. And I don't think you've told anyone, so I'm wondering why it's a secret. Is it?"

“Shit—shoot—we never actually talked to you about this, have we?”

“Nope.”

"Okay," he said slowly then drummed his fingers on his knee. "You're not a secret, exactly. You're _—_ well, frankly...you're nobody's business."

"What do you mean?" he asked after some hesitation.

He sucked on his teeth as he thought of his next words then let out a breath. "I’m a...very popular man, kid. For years, even before Iron Man, my name and face have been everywhere. I actually topped a record once for how often my name was mentioned in a year. So anything about me? People like to know about. And that includes you, Pete. So you're not a secret, not really. It's fine you told your friend _—_ I told mine too _—_ but those are the people we _want_ to know. The people we  _actually_ know. And until you're ready, until you're older and can handle being on everyone's phones, the rest of the world can suck it. It's none of their business _—_ just ours."

“Oh,” he said, and Tony tapped his fingers again as he waited for a reply. “Okay.”

Now it was Tony’s turn to shift in his seat. “Okay. Is that—are we good? Was that a good ‘okay?’”

At Peter's _hee-he-he_ , he sagged into the back cushion.

"Yeah, that was a good okay," he said. "I didn't know why we weren't telling anyone, so Ned just said I should ask."

"Smart guy."

"He is! He's really good with computer and is super nice. And he's a really big fan of yours."

"Hmm," he said, voice amused. "Why do I get the feeling this glowing review is leading somewhere? Perhaps to an invitation?"

Peter laughed. " _Maybe_."

"Well, go on! Pitch me your idea. Convince me."

Tony straightened out the data he'd crumbled up and scanned over the numbers.

"Can Ned come over sometime?"

He barked out a laugh. "Yes, he can, but your persuasive skills need a bit of work." His eyes flicked over the last lines of data. "How about we go over the specifics next time?"

“You have to go already?” he asked, and Tony wanted nothing more than to say no at the veiled disappointment in his voice.

“Sorry, kid, I’ve got work to finish, but—” He cut himself off as he smoothed the last corner of Extremis data. “Actually, do you mind putting May or Ben on really quick? Just gotta talk to them about something.”

 

***

 

Duffel bag in hand and backpack strapped to his back, Peter jumped out of their car and sped over to the elevator.

“Come on, hurry up!” he called to his aunt and uncle as they dragged their luggage out of the trunk.

“Hold your horses,” May said, pulling a small suitcase behind her. “Stark Tower’s not going anywhere.”

“Looks like it’s staying put,” Ben piped in and shut the trunk, grabbing his own luggage with his initials on it.

“Sorry, I’m just excited!” he said, bouncing on his heels. “We all get to stay here for Thanksgiving break!”

Peter wasn’t exactly sure why they were staying, but he didn’t really believe May and Ben when they mentioned the holiday. Sure, that may be part of it, but they even took a few days off from work. They never did that except for vacations, and Peter didn’t really think this counted.

He waited impatiently while Tony came to get them, but he occupied his time by gushing again over the lab and how he was so excited to show them his awesome room.

When Tony got there, he beamed, and they all crowded into the elevator, luggage and all. As he looked around at his whole family, he leaned against Ben’s arm and smiled. This was going to be the best Thanksgiving ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write the scene with Tony and Steve over about three times until it seemed right. They're really not at all friends at this point, and there's a lot of simmering tension still, I'd imagine, from Tony's dad. Tony sees Steve as this mythical figure he tried to compete with as a kid, and Steve would naturally make comparisons to his old friend. I always hoped they would address that in the MCU, but alas! That's what fanfiction is for, though! And to make adorably small(er) Peter Tony's son.


	7. You've Reached the Voicemail Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Finally got this one done! The next one will be longer, but hope you still enjoy this one anyway :)

It was almost comical how much Steve and Bruce were dying to know the mystery of  _ Master Peter _ . He didn't know whether it was out of politeness or what, but both were unwilling to pry—and both perked up anytime he went for his phone, including when he met said mystery this morning in the garage.

The Parkers were settling into the penthouse, and Peter already volunteered to give them the grand tour. He was glad May and Ben agreed to come to the Tower until this Mandarin issue was resolved. It gave him a little peace of mind to know Peter wouldn't stumble upon an exploding person while he skipped around town.

Pepper and Happy had texted him, both busy with something or other, and Rhodey was on his way here—in his  _ Iron Patriot  _ suit (big eye roll there). Everyone was accounted for, so he could at least worry about one less thing if the Mandarin blew up another person.

They were making some progress in the Extremis realm. He didn’t doubt they would with both Bruce and himself, but he almost wished for DUM-E’s trigger-happy extinguishing for still how many plants had exploded in their faces. Substantially less now, though.

He was on his way back up to the penthouse since JARVIS was running some simulations on their new formula. With a few more tweaks, they’d have it by the end of the night, he suspected. Bruce was conked out on the couch in the lab, Maya was playing around on her phone in the common room’s kitchen drinking some tea, and Steve was exploring the room he had available for him (Tony snickered when he remembered Steve’s annoyed face when Tony told him about it  _ after  _ he’d already slept on the couch).

With everyone scattered, he was glad he didn’t have to worry about Thing 1 or 2 trying to jump in the elevator with him to find out who Peter was at this moment, but he figured it was only a matter of time, especially if Bruce continued to stay and Steve did too. There was no way his superheroing and domestic worlds wouldn’t collide. But if he could delay that no doubt awkward confrontation until the last minute, that would be great.

The only plus would be how excited Peter would be to meet two more of his heroes.

The elevator dinged open, and he was met with Peter sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs with a cup of orange juice in hand, while Ben expertly flipped what look like some stir fry in a wave of rice. May was rummaging through the cupboards.

A few more steps into the room and Peter noticed him. “Tony!” he chirped, clumsily jumping down from the counter while May swiped his orange juice from his hand before it could spill.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted with a soft smile. “All unpacked?”

“Yup! And I showed May and Ben around too.”

He ruffled his hair. “I’m sure you were a very effective tour guide.”

“He was,” May said while bringing a stack of bowls down to place on the counter. “Showed us just about everything, including the decked out room.” She made sure to catch his gaze here. “I really like it, Tony.” She acquiesced with a nod, and Tony sagged in relief. After Peter had told them all about his new room, he’d gotten a rather irate phone call about not spoiling Peter, so he was admittedly a little worried he’d get the whole spiel again.

Because of that, May already capped the amount he was allowed to spend on Christmas and birthdays now. Lame.

“It’s amazing!” Peter piped in. “I’m going to put together the X-Wing set today.”

“Good choice, young star pilot. Show those Empire cronies what’s up.”

Peter saluted with a laugh. “Sir, yes, sir!”

“As soon as we fuel up the Rebel Alliance with food,” Ben said, and Tony found himself pausing to make sure he heard him. Ben was a soft-spoken man, never raising his voice and merely waiting patiently for an opening to speak at his even tone, a trait Tony couldn’t have been farther from.

Peter grabbed a bowl and waited for May and Ben to get their share before spooning his meal for himself. Tony didn’t even realize until he was sitting next to Peter at the table  with his own bowl that he didn’t even hesitate to join the Parkers for family dinner. 

It was such a novel concept for him, family dinner. The only time he’d ever experienced it—and enjoyed it—was when he was with  _ another _ family. Rhodey took him to the Rhodes home a few times growing up, especially when they were at MIT and the couple of years after his parents passed.

Besides that, he’d sit in silence or anger when dining with his parents, a very intimidating affair with a long, dark table with feet upon feet of space between each of them. His father would either have paperwork he’d scribble on over at his side of the table, or he’d eat and leave as soon as he was done, parting with at least one comment about Tony needing to work harder. His mom always tried to feign normalcy, remarking on this person doing that at the gala while that person did this at the foundation. And Tony would just leave as quickly as he could, whether he ate or not.

Now, though…

He watched as May laughed at Peter accidentally spewing a few rice pellets at Ben’s face. He watched as Peter flailed his arms, looking for a napkin, while Ben still appeared stunned and wary to open his eyes in fear of rice dropping in. May snickered and held a napkin out to Peter, and they both practically smothered the man while they wiped on both sides of his face, Peter more aggressively than he probably intended as he pulled down Ben’s cheek.

And Tony?

Tony laughed, laughed so hard his voice embarrassingly went up about five octaves and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, and before long, Peter was giggling his sweet giggle, May was one step above silently guffawing by letting out a little clicking noise, and Ben defied his usual cadence by booming out a hearty chuckle, smacking his knee.

This may not exactly be a family dinner since he was only family to one at the table, but he collected the memory to add to his other hodgepodge of dinners: Rhodey smacking him upside the head when he jokingly flirted with his sister at Easter, Pepper buying a dozen random desserts from room service when they were snowed in during a work trip, and Happy shoveling Tony’s burger in his mouth as payback for some drunken catastrophe.

Settling down from their laughter, Tony saw these as brief snapshots, film impulsively taken and spit out to flutter away into a pile in his head; messy, greedy, and hoarded like a squirrel’s stash in winter. In that moment, he was Tony Parker, Tony Rhodes, Tony Potts, or Tony Hogan. But as he always settled, as always when the laughter died down and he stared from afar, he was back to Tony Stark.

Even Peter was Parker, and he was glad for that. His film would stay on this camera, one of infinite pictures taken as Parkers.

“Sir,” JARVIS said over the quieting room. “Your presence is requested in the lab.”

Picking up his half-eaten lunch, he said, “Well, duty calls.” He deposited the dirty dish in the sink and headed toward the elevator. “Thanks for the grub.”

Just as he was about to hit the elevator button, Peter called, “Wait, Tony!”

Turning around, he raised a quizzical eyebrow when Peter, already standing, hesitated and looked at his shoes, to Tony, then to May—who strangely tilted her head in his direction with a smile.

And before Tony realized what was happening, Peter’s small arms wrapped around his torso, and Tony’s own went up as though there was a forcefield around Peter, arms hovering in an arc around him. 

“Is this okay?” Peter asked into his shirt, and Tony forced his arms down, through the electrifying shield, until they settled around his head and shoulders. The static of his touch dissipated, and his heart calmed. 

“’Cause it’s you,” he whispered, and God, that was so fucking sappy, but he honestly didn’t really care because this was one of those one in infinity moments of the  _ Stark  _ camera, the one that wouldn’t be discarded to fly into his den of mismatched memories. This was a  _ Stark  _ memory, a good one.

Peter released his grip, so Tony did the same, and that was when he was fully aware of the emotions of the moment, overly conscious of Ben and May’s soft smiles and his own words. It was instinctual, the act of slipping sunglasses on any time he felt uncomfortable, so he wasn’t surprised when the world shifted into grayer tones. He was just surprised he didn’t totally bolt but waited to say, “See you tonight, kid.”

That was when he bolted into the elevator.

 

***

 

Peter had only seven pieces of the X-Wing left before he finished. He looked at the clock again and saw it was 7:15. Five minutes more since he last checked, but still no Tony. 

Ben had explained that Tony was saving people from that Mandarin guy on the news, and Peter knew how important that was, but it was still a little disappointing he hadn’t been able to see much of Tony since they got here. He was also a little disappointed he hadn’t been able to go to the lab yet either. JARVIS wouldn’t let him in without Tony there; he found out when he was showing his aunt and uncle around earlier. 

Six pieces left.

He wondered exactly what Tony was doing to make him take this long. He knew he wasn’t out as Iron Man because he hadn’t seen him on the news and JARVIS said he was in the Tower every time he asked. The Mandarin blew stuff up, so maybe he was trying to figure out what kind of bombs they were in order to disassemble them? Or maybe he was building a protective shell to put around the bomb.

Five pieces left.

Ben nor May didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but it didn’t seem to be bothering them. They were cuddling up next to each other on the large couch, watching as the aliens from  _ Close Encounters of the Third Kind  _ drummed classical music through the speakers and the humans responded with their own line of synth.

Three pieces left.

It was really weird watching alien movies now that they’d seen  _ actual  _ aliens. It made it seem less like fiction and more like actual science. The Battle of New York could’ve been the plot of a movie, but it wasn’t. It was real—and their aliens weren’t nearly as friendly as the ones in the movie.

One piece left. He held the gray piece of plastic between his finger and thumb and slowly slotted it into place.

“I finished,” he announced and saw May asleep against Ben. Peter wasn’t surprised. May had a night shift, and he expected Ben to not be far behind. He woke up at three to finish a job before they got here.

“Great job, buddy,” he whispered then yawned. “Want to watch the rest of the movie with me?”

He shrugged, and Ben just tilted his head and stared back at him. Peter moved the X-Wing to the dining room table then leaned on his arms over the back of the couch.

“I guess I just wanted to hang out with Tony a little bit tonight,” he admitted.

“I know,” Ben said and patted the space beside him. Peter folded into the cushion while Ben continued, “It’s disappointing, just like when May or I work later, but you enjoy the time you have, even if it’s just a couple minutes tomorrow morning to show Tony your X-Wing. Life is never consistent, but just think of that positively. You know Tony’s not always going to be busy. Just like you’re not always studying for school or May has night shifts. It ebbs and flows, and we just settle into the times in between. Best we can anyway.” 

He settled into Ben’s side. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Only because your aunt’s asleep.”

Peter laughed quietly and settled in for the last few minutes of the movie, laughing again when Ben dropped off to sleep only two minutes later. Before long, the credits were rolling, and Peter was untangling himself from his slumbering guardians. They actually looked pretty comfy, so he didn’t want to wake them up. Instead, he crept to his room to grab his comforter (he didn’t know where the other blankets were) and placed that overtop of them before shutting off the TV. 

Thankfully, there was a strip of dim lights around the floor, kind of like movie theater aisles, so he tip-toed toward the hallway then stopped, looking back over his shoulder to the elevator.

He wasn’t tired. Tony hadn’t eaten yet.

He grinned. Seemed like a moment to settle in between. 

 

***

 

They all waited with bated breath at the stationary fern. Steve had the fire extinguisher in hand while the rest toiled away on various instruments to gauge the reaction. So far, this reaction—or lack thereof—was promising, but they thought the same for the last one. That one exploded after a half hour. This one, in just five seconds, was going to make it passed that mark without exploding.

When twenty more minutes passed without incident, they all relaxed.

Steve carefully set the extinguisher down. “Take five?”

Tony snorted at how hopeful that sounded, but he didn’t blame the guy. He’d been designated fire prevention once they realized he not only wasn’t adept at chemistry, his knowledge was decades old. Not surprising, but it was highly amusing to see a fire extinguisher hose poking out from behind Cap’s shield.

They plopped down in the common room sitting area, but Maya veered to the left to make coffee. Bless that woman.

He took his phone out and frowned when he didn’t see anything from Pepper or Happy. He dialed Pepper’s number and waited for her to answer.

_ “Hello, you’ve reached Virginia Potts. If you could leave a message or—” _

He frowned but ended the call with a shake of his head. Busy day, he guessed.

He accepted the cup of coffee Maya handed him, but he nearly spit it out when he saw Peter waltz through the elevator doors with a plate of sandwiches.

“Peter!” he blurted out without thinking, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Bruce and Steve, even Maya who was usually so unflappable and uninterested in anything but her research, perk up.

“Hi, Tony! I brought food since JARVIS said you haven’t eaten,” he said, and Tony could see his shyness take over once he realized there were more people as his steps grew softer and he held the plate closer to him, peeking up at Maya and standing close to Tony’s chair.

Just because he knew the two people sitting behind Maya and himself wouldn’t be out of Peter’s sight for long, he took the plate from him (fighting an amused grin when he saw that Peter had cut the crusts off the PB&Js), ready for a dramatic sandwich spill. 

“Thanks, kid,” he said. “Strawberry jam, I take it?”

“Of course!” he answered, like it was silly of Tony to even ask.

“Best kind.” He took a bite of one, marvelling at just how long it had been since he had a peanut butter and jelly. “And I see you brought some to share.” He addressed the group. “We’re extending our legally appointed, unionized fiver to a meal break, gang. Catering is provided by Mr. Parker here, so enjoy the gourmet sandwiches.”

When Maya moved to grab one, after scrutinizing them with a mix of puzzlement and amusement, that was when Peter finally saw who else was in the room, and he audibly gasped. Tony chuckled under his breath when he felt his son grip onto his sleeve and shake, wheezing, “Is that  _ Captain America _ ?”  

“Why, I do believe it is,” he said and smirked at Cap’s confused expression, although he could tell he was making a point to smile pleasantly at the kid. He turned to Bruce, who looked equally as bewildered. “And is that Dr. Bruce Banner I spy over there?”

Peter made some sort of choking noise this time and was practically vibrating from his place beside Tony, a wide grin on his face.

“Well, introductions, I suppose,” Tony said, placing a hand on Peter’s back and leading him around the chair to stand near his knees. “Peter, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Peter.”

There were various nice-to-meet-you greetings from the three, but there was still an aura of curiosity. After all, who the hell was this kid? 

If it was just Steve and Bruce in the room, he would've considered tacking on “my son,” if only to just be finished with the conversation, but he didn't know Maya. Sure, he appreciated how she wanted to stop the Mandarin, but it was her research in the first place, and he didn't know who she'd tell if he did say who Peter was. Counting 1999, he probably knew her a total of three days. Maybe four. He hadn't really slept the past two nights, so the days were kind of blending together.

Peter was darting questions back and forth between Bruce and Steve, looking like he was in the midst of a candy or toy store—or whatever other places kids really liked. Disney. The lab, in Peter's case. 

Tony found himself softly smiling as he watched, even more so every time Peter looked over at him to share in his excitement.

He heard Maya stand to his side. “Cute kid,” she said.

He just hummed in response, but he couldn’t help but notice the way she flicked her gaze from him to Peter and back. When he didn’t elaborate any further, she just shrugged and said, “Well, we all have our secrets.”

Draining the last of her coffee, she called over her shoulder that she was leaving to take a shower but stopped before she made it down the hall when Peter said, "Bye, Ms. Hansen! It was very nice to meet you."

She didn't answer right away, staring at Peter's smiling face for a moment. It was only when he shifted his feet did she shake out of her thoughts and smiled back. "Nice to meet you too, Peter."

And with that, she ducked out of the room, and Tony turned his attention back to the kid, who was offering the two men a sandwich. Steve gratefully took one, thanking him for making food, and Bruce even bowed his head a little, the weirdo, when he took one. But Peter beamed at the thanks, so he must have appreciated it.

Tony smiled and leaned forward in his chair. Sure, he hadn’t acknowledged what Peter’s actual relationship was to Rogers or Bruce, but to see him interact so casually, see him bring sandwiches down, and grin back over his shoulder to him—it really felt like Peter had been in his life for longer than he had. Him bouncing on the balls of his feet as he talked to some of his heroes felt normal, like Peter bopped down while he worked all the time.

It was nice.

It was also nice to see Steve floundering while Peter asked physics questions about his shield, but a chime on his phone distracted him from the conversation. Not that he'd bail him out anyway. Tony snickered under his breath.

Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he frowned when he saw a text from an unknown number. After making sure it wouldn't screw with his phone, his lips pulled down further when he saw it was a series of numbers divided by periods. Just that.

He saw Peter's red sneakers shuffle toward him, and he glanced up, laughing when he saw a too-large lab coat draped over the kid, the bottom just a hair away from dragging on the floor. Looked like Bruce bailed the Cap out with a bit of a distraction.

"Dr. Peter," he said to Peter's excitement, the grin on his face widening even further. "To what to I owe the pleasure?"

"Dr. Banner let me borrow his coat! I'm wearing  _ Doctor Banner's lab coat! _ "

"Looking pretty slick." His hands automatically went up to straighten the crumpled collar then roll up the long sleeves. "Maybe I should get you one of your own for the lab."

His eyes sparkled at the thought. "Really? I can have my own?"

"Course. If you want one."

Peter continued to smile as he picked and poked at various parts of the coat, but Tony raised an eyebrow when his movements turned small and shy.

"What...do you wear in the lab?" he asked. "I don't remember you wearing a coat last time."

"No coat for me. Just some grimy band t-shirts."

Tony tried to contain his laughter when Peter attempted to casually put his hands in the coat pockets, but because it was so long, he ended up hunching over and over until his hands finally sunk into hole. He couldn't hold in the snort when Peter ended up just grasping the fabric and straightening, looking now like he was going to curtsy with the bundled up cotton.

"Well, uh," Peter started, "maybe not with the grime, but could I—if it's okay, that is—could I have a band t-shirt? Instead of the coat?"  

His heart warmed. "Yeah. Yeah, we can do that."

Peter smiled, a dimpled one with no teeth. "Cool."

The more he kept his eyes on Peter's (the same eyes), the more the warmth felt like it was sliding through his chest, stomach, and arms, overwhelming him with the feeling, so he looked away and cleared his throat.

"We'll have to brush up on your rock bands, though. No mixing up Robert Plant with Brian Johnson or anything."

Peter just blinked at him for a moment before nodding. "Okay!"

He shook his head with a smile. "You'll know who they are by the end of Thanksgiving break."

"You'll be doing better than me, Peter," Steve said to Tony's surprise. He almost forgot he and Bruce were still here. "I don't know who they are either."

"A Sinatra man then?" Tony asked, straightening in the chair. 

"Most my age were at the time." There was a subtle tilt of his head and a change to his eyes Tony couldn't place. "Your father included."

His stomach twisted, and he abruptly stood, swiping his coffee mug off the table. He'd never heard his father play music. "Wouldn't know."

"What I  _ do  _ know," he continued, filling up the mug, "is that we should check in on our ferny friend and get back to it."

"Tony—"

"Sir," JARVIS interrupted before Cap could say anything. "Ms. Potts is calling."

A tension he didn't even know he had loosened at those words.

"Thanks, J. I'll take it in the other room." He turned to Peter. "Alright, squirt. Time to head back up."

He frowned, his shoulders deflating. "Can I say bye to everyone before I have to?"

"Fine, but as soon as you're done, you're back up to Ben and May."

With that, he brightened. "Okay! Tell Ms. Potts I say hi!"

He smiled. "Will do."

Exiting the room, he closed the door to a small, office-like study filled with research materials, a computer, and a couch. He gestured for JARVIS to accept the call as he plopped down on the cushions.

"Long day, Pep?" he asked.

There was rattling, static, a whole cacophony of sounds on the other end of the line. He leaned forward, frowning. More noises, then a familiar whimper which made him bolt up.

"Pepper?"

More noises. Metal against concrete. Rusted, deep clicks.

Then finally: “Tony.”

The voice was pained, gasped yet forced out, but Tony knew any sound that voice could make.

“Pepper. Pepper, are you alright? What's happening?" He jumped on the computer and had JARVIS track the phone.

She sucked in a shuddering breath. "Killian. Killian—he kidnapped me and Happy. I-I don't know where we are, but—"

A loud, male voice cut her off, but the yell was muffled, so Tony couldn't understand what he was saying. All he could make out was her fierce response.

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ touch him!” she spat. “I’m doing what you asked. I’m asking Tony. Just  _ wait _ !”

She inhaled sharply, but whatever frightened her must have backed off because her breaths evened out to something calmer.

“Tony,” she said, voice quivering but serious. “A package of research will be at the Tower tonight in about an hour. Perfect the compound inside. Our lives for the completed formula. You have four days, don't involve the authorities, and methods to contact us again will be in the box as well. I love you, To—”

The line went dead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D
> 
> Sorry, Pepper! Killian's a player in this still, so you're kidnapped in this too. But Happy's there this time, so at least there's company lol.


	8. Just Think of Happy Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wuff. Life, writer's block, and totally rewriting a chapter sure don't go together lol. Thanks for being patient while I got this next update out. The next one shouldn't take as long since it's almost finished :)

Peter knew he was _supposed_ to go back up to the penthouse after he said goodbye to Captain Rogers and Doctor Banner, but the deal was technically that he had to go after he said goodbye to everyone, and he hadn't said bye to Tony. It was only 9:00, and it was Thanksgiving break! Peter didn’t want to go to bed yet.

After he returned Dr. Banner’s coat to him and shook hands ( _shook hands, omigosh!)_ with Captain Rogers, he pretended to go in the elevator when, in fact, he ducked into the closet next to them and waited until they both left. He actually heard Ms. Hansen yelling over the phone through the vent, but she didn’t come back into the room.

Frankly, he was kind of glad. She sounded pretty angry.

He just waited until he was sure the two heroes were gone. Until then, he took the small notebook he always kept around him when he hung out with Tony. So far he hadn’t used his list of what to do if Tony had a panxiety attack, but he figured it was good to keep with him just in case. It was small, and he could fold it up to throw in his hoodie pocket. It had a permanent crease in it now, but he really didn’t mind.

It was a little like his diary now. He never thought he’d have one—he never really saw the appeal—but it was kind of fun to even just jot down ideas he had about new projects or draw Mr. Delmar’s cat (not that it was any good, really).

His latest page was kind of dumb, he knew, but he still kind of liked the idea anyway. He saw a lady on the subway the other day with a beagle, and he had this red vest on that said, “Emotional Support Dog.” The woman let him pet Fleetwood when he asked, and she also told him she took him everywhere with her—for her anxiety.

So he decided to draw up some designs for Pan, the emotional support robot. Nothing really substantial, but he had a few sketches. Regardless of what shape it was, he kind of wanted it to be green. Even though his favorite color was red, he couldn't _not_ think of Peter Pan at the name although really named after panxiety. It was always his favorite Disney movie...and it was actually one of the few memories he still had of his parents. They were just wisps of watching that movie when he was sick or stuck inside because of his asthma. He hated being in his room when he was sick, so his parents always let him lay on the couch, wrapped up in his tie-dye blanket with his head in one of their laps. Half-asleep and half-awake, he’d hear the echoes of the Lost Boys and the jingle of Tinkerbell as his mom’s hand carded through his hair, a steady wave of comfort like the lapping waves against Captain Hook’s ship.

Maybe that was why he remembered watching the movie with them. He was half dazed, and his dreams absorbed more than his waking brain, so his parents came to life, flying hand in hand with him against the London skyline beneath his eyelids.

And again when he was about to wake up or about to fall asleep, he’d hear one of his parents, by now a combined voice in his muffled and swirling dreams, whisper in his ear.

_“Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever in never Never Land.”_

He smiled as he traced those words next to his drawing of Pan.

“Just think of happy things,” he whispered too.

Humming “We Can Fly” under his breath, he doodled some and wrote a few equations in his notebook until he heard the two Avengers click for the elevator. Pressing an ear against the door, he heard to distinctive _ding,_ shuffling in through the doors, then silence. He waited a few moments, shoving his notebook back into his pocket.

He peeked around to make sure the coast was clear before tip-toeing his way to the room he knew his dad went. He hoped he was still there, anyway. He hadn’t heard the elevator again or heard his dad talking to the others, so he figured he was at least still on the floor. May as well check here first.

He knocked, but he didn’t hear an answer, and he didn’t hear anything from JARVIS, so he cautiously poked his head in—and his heart seized, so he rushed into the room.

Tony was hunched over in the chair, head in his hands, and all Peter could see was a ghost of Tony’s collapsed form, gasping on the lab floor. He saw himself pounding on the glass while Tony fell to his knees. He almost felt like curling back up on those stairs just thinking about it, but what he really wanted to do was kick through the glass to get inside.

He grasped onto his notebook, but as soon as he removed it from his pocket, Tony lifted his head, and the urgency fizzled away at the raised brow and even breathing.

“Peter?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

And Peter merely blinked at his dad, already feeling his face flushed in embarrassment. He fiddled with the pages of the notebook, curling it into a tube. Tony was fine.

“Uh, hi,” he went with, raising his hand to wave, and Tony’s lips quirked up in amusement.

“Hello,” he replied, but the smile he sent Peter didn’t last long, and Peter’s worry bubbled up again when he saw how pinched Tony’s expression was. “You know, I distinctly remember a conversation where we agreed you’d go to bed after you said goodbye to everyone.”

His red face didn’t get any dimmer. “I didn’t say goodbye to you.”

He merely twitched his lips up a moment, and Peter frowned when Tony kept looking back at the computer screen on the desk next to him. There were, what looked like, a couple of windows up. One of them said TRACKING FAILED in big, bright letters.

He swallowed. "Are you...okay?"

Tony didn’t answer, just ran a hand down his face, sighing. Peter didn’t really know what to do at the silence, and he awkwardly shuffled his feet on the floor. He thought about getting closer to his dad but also of turning away and going back upstairs. All he knew was the silence probably meant no, he wasn’t.

“Look, kid,” he finally said, straightening up, “this isn’t really the best time. I know...I know I haven’t been around much since you’ve been here for break, but this _really_ isn’t a good time.”

“O-Oh,” Peter said, fiddling with the notebook, head down. “Sorry. I just thought—sorry. I’ll go back upstairs.”

Face flushed again, he whirled around and was about to scurry out but was stopped when Tony said, “Wait!”

He peeked over his shoulder, and Tony approached him, looking uncertain. Tony tapped his fingers against his pant leg while the other rested on his hip. He kind of looked like he was biting his cheek (something Peter realized he did as well), as he flicked his eyes between Peter and the monitor. He huffed out a breath as Peter turned fully around.

“Alright, I’ll be honest here, Pete,” he said then swallowed thickly, taking a moment. “Pepper...is in trouble.”

He gasped. “Is Ms. Potts okay?”

“She better be,” he said, fierce and pained at the same time. He paused again. “Happy’s in trouble too, but they’re together, so I’m going to get them, okay? So I...don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Peter clutched the notebook to his chest, and he turned wide eyes to Tony. “You’re leaving now?”

“No, not now. But soon.” He looked down at Peter, a heavy expression falling over his face, before he cleared his throat and pointed back to the monitor. “I’m just waiting on a few things before I leave.”

What settled between them now was awkward and tense. Peter didn’t really know what to do or say, and Tony looked to be in the same position. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and he was looking away from Peter while Peter was wrinkling and wrinkling his notebook so much the pages were probably tearing out of the spine.

Was Peter supposed to say good luck? Be safe? See you soon? Was he supposed to do _anything_ ? That was probably the worst option ever. Peter didn’t like to _not do_ anything. When Ben was fixing the crooked cabinet door, he helped. When Ned needed to walk home from school alone, he went with him. When Mrs. Stalanski upstairs needed help with her computer, he made sure she knew how to attach a document to her email.

But what was he supposed to do for _Iron Man_ ? Because that was who was in front of him. He didn’t forget that, no, but sometimes it seemed like Tony and Iron Man were two different people. There was a divide there he had a hard time connecting. He’d never even seen Tony working on his Iron Man suits or seen them in person, so the superhero his dad was seemed so distant.

He looked down at his notebook. What could Peter do for a _superhero_?

 

***

  


Tony watched with a constricted heart as Peter waved to him in the elevator. He waved back, but he pinched the bridge of his nose the moment the doors closed. He already had JARVIS tell the Parkers Peter was on his way up since he was sure they were up by now and wondering where their nephew was.

Ben had told him once that Peter tended to wander off. Usually because he got distracted by a dog or something, but kid had a pretty good sense of direction and not even as a toddler panicked if he was without his parents. They were probably used to not knowing where he was immediately. Still, he figured they’d appreciate the heads up.

Besides, it would be good for Peter to have his aunt and uncle there after he told him about Pepper and Happy, especially because he knew how much the kid liked them. May and Ben’d make him worry a little less. Hopefully telling him Iron Man was handling it helped, too.

And handling it he was.

Tony had an employee checking the Tower’s mail for the package demands, and he had Steve, Bruce, and Maya gathered back in the lab. JARVIS was getting MK XXVII ready for use. And now that he was thinking more clearly...

“JARVIS, run the IP address from the text message I received today. Do whatever you need to to get an exact location.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

Taking another look at the string of numbers on his phone, he was beating himself up for not recognizing it sooner, but it was the binary form of the address. Seeing Peter actually jogged his memory, and he had tapped a _B.Y.E._ into the boy’s sleeve before he left as a little thanks.

He had JARVIS tell everyone the basics of what was happening, so when he opened the doors to the lab, Cap was already dressed in his _uniform_ , and Bruce was attached to the computer. He frowned when he didn’t see Maya.

“She’s grabbing the package from your employee downstairs,” Steve answered when he asked. “He didn’t have clearance to come up, so she volunteered to get it for us.”

He merely nodded and attached the wristlets he’d synced up to all of his suits. While he was in the midst of creating an implant so he could call his suits to him without these clunky bracelets, he had these in the meantime. He also had the Iron Legion.

He’d made it to the nice, even number of twenty-nine. So he had twenty-one new suits since New York. He gave himself a wry smile at that. Made it a little more confusing to use _New York_ as an all-encompassing event when he lived there permanently now.

The swish of the door interrupted his thoughts, and he followed Steve to see Maya dumping pages out from a too-big envelope onto the table.

Without prompting, Maya said, “Honestly, it’s a lot of gibberish. I looked at it on the way up, and it’s half-formed ideas and hypotheses. This is an absolute mess.”

“Is there a message from the kidnapper in there at all?” Steve asked, leaning over her shoulder to look for himself. She answered by removing one page from the folder, handing it to Steve, who only looked at it briefly before giving it to Tony.

“Menacing instructions. You know, don’t contact the police and the deadline.”

“So,” he said, dropping the page, “nothing useful.”

Her lips twitched up. “Right.”

Tony veered over to the computer Bruce was at and pushed him, chair and all, out of the way.

“Luckily for us,” he said over Bruce’s startled yelp, “I’ve had JARVIS track an IP address I coincidentally received around the time Pepper called.”

“That’s not suspicious to you?” Steve asked, eyebrow raised.

“Of course it is, but if it takes me to Pepper and Happy, I don’t really give a shit.”

Steve pursed his lips in annoyance, and Tony’s thinned in response.

Taking a look at the coordinates on the screen, he continued, “I’m going to the San Joaquin Valley—”

“Where?” Maya asked with a frown.

“It’s in California,” he said, then turned back to Steve. “You can join if you want, but I’m going regardless.”

Steve stepped forward, hand up in a placating manner that made him want to roll his eyes. “Let’s just hammer in a few details first, alright?” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed the folder of mismatched data and handed it to Bruce, who had abandoned his chair in favor of standing around the other side of the desk. “Bruce, you and Maya stay here and try to figure out some of this data in case the IP address falls through or it’s a trap. If we have to play by the kidnapper’s rules for a while, we will.” He looked over his shoulder at Maya, who had her arms crossed. “You mind helping us out with this before we finish with your research?”

She unfurled her arms and rested her hands on her hips, shrugging. “This takes priority. I get it.”

“Thank you, Maya.”

She smirked. “You’re very welcome, Steve.”

He smiled at her before turning back to Tony, and he was struck by the image. His stance, his outfit, his expression, they were all exactly like this trading card he had of him when he was younger. He felt like he was about to pick his character for _Street Fighter,_ and the moment he clicked on the picture, he’d burst to life, shield and all.

He shook his head.

“So, then it’s us to San Joaquin Valley I take it?” he asked.

“It’s us to San Joaquin Valley.”

 

—-

 

While JARVIS and Steve were commandeering a plane they could use, Tony asked Bruce up to his own lab while he suited up. Mark 28, otherwise known as Disco, was a bit garish in color, the two colors vying for attention orange and royal blue, but what made this model special was the cloaking capabilities. He likened it a bit to a chameleon. The suit was designed for stealth missions, and as much as he wanted to crush down the doors with a blast of his gauntlet, he didn’t want to take any chances with Pepper and Happy on the line. Besides, he wanted to see Disco in action.

JARVIS alerted him to Bruce on his way down the stairs, so he opened the faceplate of the suit and propped the door open for him.

This was his first time in Tony’s personal lab, and Tony couldn’t help making comparisons to Peter’s first time trotting down as well. Bruce contained his excitement a little more, but they were both equally impressed. Tony not so secretly smirked at that. He knew his lab was pretty badass.

“Tony,” Bruce greeted. He must have gotten ready for bed or opted for comfier clothes before Tony gathered everyone back up because he was still in overly large sweatpants with a drawstring and long-sleeved tee. If he didn’t know Bruce to be as single-minded about projects as he was at times, he would’ve thought he was going to take a nap right here.

“Bruce.” He nodded then got right down to why he’d called him up here. “I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor? Uh, yeah, sure. What do you need?”

He hesitated, sucking on his teeth.

“Peter,” he said. “I want you to make sure he’s alright while I’m gone.”

“Is there a reason he wouldn’t be alright?”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “But he may...be worried.”

Bruce appeared to be searching his face for something, but whatever he found just made him nod, and he said, “I’d be happy to check in on him, Tony.”

He placed a metallic hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

“He’s a sweet kid. I don’t mind.” He gestured down with his hand. “Which floor is he on?”

“My floor,” he answered, but he continued forward before Bruce could comment of the strangeness of that. But he probably already figured Peter was his son. Bruce was smart. “Just check in on him tomorrow morning if we’re not back by then. I’ll let JARVIS know you can go up.”

This time is Bruce’s turn to pat his shoulder. “Will do, Tony.”

Not wanting the moment to last much longer, he just nodded and doublechecked to make sure JARVIS was fully connected to Disco. “And make sure to keep us updated on anything you find in the hodgepodge notes. Just ask JARVIS to connect with me if you do, and tell Maya the same thing.”

Bruce nodded, and Tony closed the faceplate of the suit with an audible clank.

“Good luck,” the scientist said, then paused, seeming to think over what he was going to say. “And I’m sure they’re fine. He wouldn’t kill his hostages.”

Tony bit the inside of his cheek but didn’t answer. He just nodded, and they both left the lab—Bruce through the door and Tony through another exit to the roof. Time to go.

 

—-

 

“What do they look like?”

Tony blinked over at Rogers. Right, they had about a half hour left on the trip before they were in California, and he was stuck making small talk with Uncle Sam even though he wanted to jump out of the plane and blast off to the IP address’ location.

“What does _what_ look like?” he asked, and he was a little surprised at the flush on Roger’s cheeks.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ms. Potts and Mr. Hogan. What do they look like?” And just like that, like he was flipping through one of Cap’s own comic book strips, his expression turned serious. “I want to make sure I can recognize them before we go in.”

“Right. JARVIS, send my contact pictures of Pepper and Happy to Cap’s phone.”

“Of course, sir.”

With a loud _ding_ , Cap fished around in his side pocket, and Tony snorted at the prehistoric flip phone. He also couldn’t hold back the amused smirk as he tried to view the images. After accidentally deleting Happy’s image, Tony took pity on him and showed him how to use it.

Opening up the saved image, his thumb just stopped when he saw the picture. There was Pepper. Alive and smiling. It was an older picture, one from when she was still his PA. The pen she had in her hand was about to poke him roughly in the chest after he refused to fill out some paperwork, clicking against his arc reactor, especially after he tried exchanging the picture for an extension.

He smiled at the memory, and he wasn’t sure how long he stared at the photo until Rogers spoke up.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. Then where he was and who he was with registered, and he cleared his throat, snapping the phone shut.

“Here,” he said, handing the phone back. “You’re slowly catching up to the twenty-first century one attachment at a time. Congrats.”

One side of his mouth curled up. “Thanks, Stark.”

“Not a problem, Cap.”

Rogers shifted in his seat before getting up entirely, going up to chat with the pilot. When he returned, he strapped his shield to his back and addressed Tony. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He hummed. “Ahead of schedule then.” His face plate closed, and Cap fixed the shield onto his back.

He asked JARVIS to bring up the coordinates, and he watched as the distance shortened. They were jumping out a few miles away so as to not alarm the freak, then he was going to haul himself and Muscles to the location through the air.

Then they'd save Pepper and Happy and get the hell out.

He admittedly expected the hideout to be some crusty warehouse or old bunker, but they were heading to an abandoned orange tree farm. The satellite images showed a few dotted blurs of trees from above and presumably the farmer's home off to the side. The place closed down when the family passed away in a fire that took out most of their grove, so the place was just left to crumble away into ash.

He glanced up when he noticed Cap bouncing on the balls of his feet, preparing for the jump, so he stood near the soon-to-be-opening door.

"Ready?" Rogers asked.

He nodded. "Ready." His voice, tinned and echoing, settled between them, and the two men stood beside each other as the hatch opened.

 

***

 

Peter turned in his bed again, groaning in frustration as he did. How was he expected to sleep when Ms. Potts and Happy were in trouble? And his dad was jumping in to save them?

That normally would've excited him—Iron Man, his dad, dashing off into the sunset to rescue the damsel (and Happy). But he was imagining the image of the stalwart metal suit, the impenetrable armor that flew a nuke into space and clobbered giant alien whales into buildings. He was picturing that stoic face standing in front of a monster.

But it wasn't like that at all.

Iron Man wasn't facing off against a grotesque monster. It was just some guy. Tony said it was a man—he kept saying "he" as he described the kidnapper. That was stuff from _Law and Order_ and _CSI_ , not his comic books and stories.

And it wasn't Iron Man he had to say goodbye to. It was Tony, and although he tried not to be, he could tell Tony was _worried._ He was his dad in a cotton suit, not a metal one, with his mouth pulled into a tight smile, not an imposing frown of a mask. His hand ruffled his hair as he left instead of whirring with a plasma blast.

Factually, he knew Iron Man was Tony Stark and Tony Stark was Iron Man. He knew that. But he was having a hard time fusing them together, like trying to weld two pieces of metal together. He knew others could do it seamlessly, but he could only push the two pieces together with a sizable divide. There was a large, uneven track of raised, melted metal between the two, a burrowed mole hill he couldn't get rid of. He couldn't imagine Tony Stark flying through the air and taking down factions of terrorists. He couldn't imagine Iron Man absentmindedly rolling around on a creeper next to his car as he thought of the next thing to teach Peter. He couldn't imagine Tony Stark crashing through a building. He couldn't imagine Iron Man sitting down at their small table to eat mac and cheese.

He couldn't imagine Tony Stark falling through the sky, unconscious, as a wormhole sucked the sky shut.

He shucked the covers off of him and flicked on the lightsaber light on his nightstand. Trudging over to his desk, he flopped down in the chair, head falling on the wood. It was cold against his cheek, and a shiver ran up his body. He kind of wished he had brought the comforter with him. He sighed.

"Who needs sleep?" he asked to the empty room.

"You," a voice answered, startling him. He jolted up but sent a sheepish smile when he saw it was his aunt. Her hair was bundled up into a bun that was half falling out, and she was in her polka-dot pajama pants.

"Probably," he said. "How did you know I was awake?"

She shuffled over and sat on the edge of his bed, so he swiveled his chair around to face her. "I saw your light on when I got up to go to the bathroom." She reached over to cup his cheek with her hand. "You been up all night?"

He nodded. "Can't sleep."

"Understandable." She patted his cheek and leaned back. "Movie time?"

He perked up at that, and she let out a soft chuckle. "You get blankets, and I'll get a movie started."

He bundled up his comforter while May padded out into the hall to whisper to JARVIS about starting a movie. He grabbed another blanket from the closet and trailer in after her, almost tripping on the mound in his arms. She chuckled and took hers from the top, and they settled into the cushions.

He smiled when the first Harry Potter movie started, and he watched as Professor McGonagall argued with Dumbledore about giving Harry to the Dursleys, his nasty relatives. He remembered being appalled at how Harry's aunt and uncle treated him, and he cuddled into May's side.

They continued to watch the movie for a while, and it wasn't until Harry was on the train to wizarding school did he whisper, "Do you think they'll all be okay?"

He felt her nuzzle her face into the top of his head, and he waited for her answer. He never expected her to tell him a lie, saying of course they were or that Tony would be back tomorrow. Neither of his guardians did, but May was as honest as she could be. Maybe from being a nurse or her dad being a detective, he didn't know. He just knew he liked it when she was honest. After his parents died, when he was shuffled off into the custody of the state while May and Ben were trying to bring him home, no one gave him straight answers. And as a scared six-year-old kid, that's all he wanted after being ripped away from home and put in the care of strangers. He wanted people to explain what his parents being "gone" meant and what time "soon" was for when he could go home.

May always told him what _gone_ and _soon_ meant.

 "I hope so," she said. "We'll just check in with JARVIS tomorrow and see if he can tell us anything. In the meantime, we wait, and we sleep."

He frowned. "I hate waiting."

"Me too, baby. Me too."

They watched the rest in silence. Snape, the troll, an invisibility cloak, and Fluffy. By the time the three wizards were gathered around a giant chess board, his eyes were dropping. He could hear the grinding of the stone pieces against the floor and the explosions of fallen pawns around the king. Until finally, _"Checkmate."_

He fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's rescuing time next chapter! Pepper and Happy will make an appearance as well as the Mandarin!
> 
> Originally, I wrote the first scene with Peter and Tony with Tony actually having an anxiety attack, but the more I kept trying to tweak it, the more it didn't seem to fit. While I know "panxiety" attacks can come on when we least expect it sometimes, Tony's anxiety is more heavily tied to space, to dangers outside of his control. He is a bit of a controlling person--he's a billionaire who can ask for anything, and he's smarter than pretty much everyone he meets, so he's used to getting what he wants and making decisions--so not knowing what to do or how to approach something, a concept he's probably quite unfamiliar with, would be what breaks him.
> 
> Pepper and Happy being kidnapped? That's something he can fix. He's the mechanic after all! So long story short, expect Peter's notebook to make a practical appearance another time! I'm really excited to write about Pan! I have an adorable image in my head I can't wait to share <3
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one and my random analysis of Tony. I'll stop making this note so long now haha.


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